LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




ANALYSIS 

OP THE 

INFLUENCE OE NATURAL KELIGION. 



" Among the works read in the course of this year (1822) which contributed materially to my 
development, I ought to mention a book (written on the foundation of some of Bentham's 
manuscripts, and published under the pseuclonyme of Philip Beauchamp), entitled 'Analysis 
of the Influence of Natural Religion on the Temporal Happiness of Mankind.' 

M This was an examination not of the truth, but of the usefulness of religious belief in the 
most general sense, apart from the peculiarities of any special Revelation; which, of all the 
parts of the discussion concerning religion, is the most important in this age, in which real 
belief in any religious doctrine is feeble and precarious, bat the opinion of its necessity for 
moral and social purposes almost universal; and when those who reject revelation very gene- 
rally take refuge in an optimistic Deism, a worship of the order of Nature and the supposed 
course of Providence, at least as full of contradictions and perverting to the moral sentiments 
as any of the forms of Christianity, if only it is as completely realized. "Set, very little, with 
any claim to a philosophical character, has been written by sceptics against the usefulness of 
this form of belief. 

"The volume bearing the name of Philip Beauchamp had this for its special object. 
Having been shown to my father in manuscript, it was put into my hands by him, and I made a 
marginal analysis of it as I had done of the 1 Elements of Political Economy.' Next to the 
1 Traite de Legislation,' it was one of the books which by the searching character of its analysis 
produced the greatest effect upon me. On reading it lately after an interval of many years, 
I find it to have some of the defects as well as the merits of the Ben hamic modes of thought, 
and to contain, as I dow think, many weak arguments, but with a great overbalance of sound 
ones, and much good material for a more completely philosophic and conclusive treatment of 
the subject." — John Stuabt Mill's Autobiogbafhy, page 69. 

"This essential portion of the inquiry into the temporal usefulness of religion is the 
subject of the present Essay. It is a part which has been little treated of by sceptical writers. 
The only direct discussion of it with which I am acquainted is in a short treatise, understood to 
have been partly compiled from manuscripts of Mr. Bentham, and abounding in just and pro- 
found views ; but which, as it appears to me, presses many parts of the argument too hard." — 
J. S. Mill's Essay on thb Utility op Religion, page 1 '6. 

M Although not generally known, it is, we believe, a fact that the late Mr. Grote was the 
author of a treatise on Natural Religion, published under an assumed name so far back as the 
year 1822. The full title of this work is * Analysis of the Influence of Natural Religion, &c, &c, 
by Philip Beauchamp.' "—Thb Athbn^um, May 31, 1873. 



1 V 



ANALYSIS 



OF THE 



^njtocncc of ,|latura! IMigion 



ON THE 



TEMPORAL HAPPINESS OF MAMIND. 



BY 



PHILIP BEAUCHAMP. 



A NEW EDITION. 



LONDON : 

EDWARD TRUELOVE, 256, HIGH HOLBORN. 

1875. 



lf7S 



4 8 6 5 5 5 

AUG 1 3 1942 



PEE FACE. 



THE following pages present a temperate, and I hope a 
satisfactory, examination of the temporal good or 
evil produced by Natural Religion. The topic is of un- 
speakable importance, and has by no means met with the 
attention which it deserves. It has indeed scarcely ever 
been separately considered, and those who have contro- 
verted the truth of religion have suffered themselves with 
but little opposition to be decried as inflicting the deepest 
injury upon humanity — as corrupting the most effectual 
source both of rectitude and of consolation — and as robbing 
mankind of doctrines, which, supposing they were false, 
ought nevertheless to have been invented and inculcated. 
Such has been the current opinion on the subject : and it 
need not be remarked how strong must have been the 
inclination of an audience so prepossessed, to support that 
which they regarded as the firmest tie and protection of 
society. 

It is therefore essentially requisite, before the question 
as to the truth of religion can be brought to a lair and 
unbiassed decision, to estimate correctly the advantages or 
disadvantages which result from its adoption. If the esti- 
mate of these advantages drawn up by its advocates be 
really well-founded, we may safely pronounce that no anti- 
religious writer could possibly make a convert, even though 
he were armed with demonstration as rigorous as that of 
Euclid. 

Should the following reasonings be deemed conclusive, a 
clear idea may be formed of the temporal gain or loss 
accruing from the agency of Natural Religion. Whether ^ 
the doctrines which this term involves be true or false, is a 
point on which I do not intend to touch : nor is the question 
of any import, so far as regards the present discussion. 
Though these doctrines were false, yet many religionists 
allege that it would be salutary to deceive mankind into a 
belief of their truth : And conversely, others might with 
equal right maintain, that although they were true, it might 



6 



perhaps still be pernicious, so far as regards the present 
life, to receive them as true. 

Under the term Natural Religion, I include all religious 
V belief not specially determined and settled by some revela- 
tion (or reputed revelation) from the Being to whom the 
belief relates. The good or bad temporal tendency of any 
particular alleged revelation, can of course only be ascer- 
tained by an inspection of the books in which it is con- 
tained, and must therefore form a separate inquiry. To 
any such inquiry however, the present discussion is an 
essential preliminary. For if it be discovered that Eeligion, 
unassisted by revelation, is the foe and not the benefactor 
of mankind, we can then ascertain whether the good effects 
engrafted upon her by any alleged revelation, are sufficient 
to neutralize the bitterness of her natural fruits. Nor is it 
possible to measure the benefit or injury derived from 
Revealed Eeligion, without first determining the effects of 
Eeligion herself without any revelation. 

Divines have on many occasions admitted and enlarged 
apon the defects and bad tendency of Natural Eeligion. 
Hence, they infer, the necessity of a revelation. Whoever 
contends that a revelation was a present highly necessary, 
and a most signal instance of the benevolence of God, must 
also contend that the pre-existing religion was, to say the 
least, productive of a very slender portion of good. And if 
our present inquiry should demonstrate that Natural Ee- 
ligion has produced a large balance of temporal evil above 
temporal good, this will evince still more forcibly the 
necessity of a revelation such as to purge and counteract its 
bad effects. 

To obviate all misconceptions, I wish to declare before- 
hand, that whenever the general term religion is used in 
the following treatise I mean it to denote mere Natural 
Eeligion, apart from revelation. If I do not constantly 
annex the qualifying epithet natural, it is from a wish to 
avoid needless repetition of that which may be indicated 
once for all in the beginning. In the same manner I wish 
it to be understood, that whenever the terms, sacerdotal 
class, or any synonymous phrases, are employed, it is only 
the ministers of Natural Eeligion who are designated. 
December, L822. 



TABLE OF 



CONTENTS. 



IF J± JEZj T X . 



CHAPTER I. 

Preliminary Statements and Definitions 9 

CHAPTER II. 

The expectations of posthumous pleasure and pain, which Natural 
Religion holds out, considered simply and in themselves ... 11 

CHAPTER III. 

The same expectations considered as conditional, and as exercising 
influence upon human conduct ... ... ... ... ... 15 

Section I. — Natural Religion provides directly noj rule of 

guidance whatever... ... ... 16 

Section II. — It indirectly suggests, and applies its induce- 
ments to the observance of, a rule of action very per- 
nicious to the temporal interests of mankind ... 18 

CHAPTER IV. 

Farther considerations on the temporal usefulness of that rule of 
action which the inducements of Natural Religion enforce ... 37 

CHAPTER V. 

Of the efficiency of the inducements held out by Natural Re- 
ligion. How far superhuman inducements can be regarded as 
likely to prove influential where no human inducements would 
be influential ... ... 43 

CHAPTER VI. 

Efficiency of the superhuman inducements to produce temporal 
evil: Their inefficiency to produce temporal good ... ... 46 

CHAPTER VII. 

Analysis of the source from whence the real efficiency of super- 
human inducements is almost wholly derived 53 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Proof of the complete inefficiency of superhuman inducements, 
when at variance with, or unassisted by, public opinion 56 

Recapitulation of the contents of the first Part 61 



8 



IP .A. K T II. 



Catalogue of the various modes in which Natural Religion pro- 
duces temporal mischief 63 

CHAPTER I. 

Of the mischiefs which it occasions to the believer individually ... 64 

I. Inflicting unprofitable suffering ib. 

II. Imposing useless privations 65 

III. Impressing undefined terrors 67 

IV. Taxing pleasure, by the infusion of preliminary 
scruples and subsequent remorse ... 69 

CHAPTER II. 

Of the mischiefs which Natural Religion occasions, not only to 
the believer himself, but also to others through his means ... 69 

I. Creating factitious antipathies ib. 

II. Perverting the popular opinion — Corrupting moral sen- 
timent — Sanctifying antipathies — Producing aversion 

to improvement ... ... 76 

III. Disqualifying the intellectual faculties for purposes 
useful in this life 83 

Section I. Disjoining Belief from Experience ... 84 

IV. Suborning unwarranted belief 97 

V . Depraving the temper 100 

VI. Creating a particular class of persons incurably opposed 

to the interests of humanity ... ... .... 103 



ANALYSIS, 

8fc. 



CHAPTER I. 

Preliminary Statements and Definition, 

ON the truth of religion much has been urged ; on its 
usefulness and beneficial tendency, comparatively 
little — little, at least, which can be termed argumentative or 
convincing. But assumption is shorter than proof, and 
the advocates of religion, though scarcely deigning to 
bestow any inquiry or analysis upon the subject, have not 
failed to ascribe to it results of supreme excellence and 
happiness. It has been affirmed to be the leading bond of 
union between the different members of- society — to be the 
most powerful curb on the immoral and unsocial passions 
of individuals — to form the consolation and support of 
misfortunes and declining life — in short, it has been 
described as the most efficient prop both of inward happi- 
ness and of virtuous practice in this world. Whether these 
sublime pretensions are well founded or not, the following 
inquiry is destined to ascertain. 

The warmest partisan of natural religion cannot deny, 
that by the influence of it (occasionally at least) bad effects 
have been produced ; nor can any one on the other hand 
venture to deny, that it has on other occasions brought 
about good effects. The question therefore is, throughout, 
only as to the comparative magnitude, number, and pro- 
portion of each. 



10 



One course has indeed been adopted, by means of which 
religion has been, in appearance, extricated from all impu- 
tation, of having ever given birth to ill effects in any shape. 
So far as the results occasioned by it have been considered 
as good, the producing cause has been termed religion : 
so far as these results have been regarded as bad, this 
name has been discarded and the word superstition has 
been substituted. Or these injurious effects have avowedly 
been thrown aside under the pretence, that they are abuses 
of religion ; that the abuse of a thing cannot be urged 
against its use, since the most beneficent preparations may 
be erroneously or criminally applied. By these false 
methods of reasoning the subject has been inconceivably 
overclouded, and it is therefore essentially necessary to 
expose and guard against such fallacies in the outset. 
From the former of these two sources all deception will be 
obviated by an accurate definition of the term religion ; 
by strictly confining it to one meaning, and invariably 
introducing it whenever that meaning is implied. Against 
the latter principle, by which what are called the abuses of 
a thing are discarded from the estimate of its real impor- 
tance and value, we declare open war. By the use of a 
thing, is meant the good which it produces ; by the abuse, 
the evil which it occasions. To pronounce upon the merits 
of the thing under discussion, previously erasing from the 
reckoning all the evil which it occasions, is most preposterous 
and unwarrantable. Were this mode of summing up 
receipts and eluding all deductions of outgoings, admissible, 
every institution which had ever produced any good effects 
at all, must be applauded as meritorious and usef ul, although 
its pernicious effects, which had been thrust out of the 
account, might form a decided and overwhelming balance 
on the other side. 

7 By the term religion is meant the belief in the existence 
of an almighty Being, by whom pains and pleasures will be 
dispensed to mankind, during an infinite and future state 
of existence. And religion is called natural, when there 
exists no written and acknowledged declaration, from which 
an acquaintance with the will and attributes of this almighty 
Being may bo gathered. 
My object is therefore to ascertain, whether the belief of 



11 



posthumous pains and pleasures, then to be administered 
by an omnipotent Being, is useful to mankind — that is, 
productive of happiness or misery in the present life. 

I say, in the present life, for the distinction is exceedingly 
important to notice. Compared with an interminable 
futurity, the present life taken in its utmost duration, is but 
as a point, less than a drop of water to the ocean. 
Although, therefore, it should be demonstrated, that religion, 
considered with reference to the present life, is not bene- 
ficial but pernicious — not augmentative but destructive of 
human happiness — there might still remain ample motive 
to the observance of its precepts, in the mind of a true 
believer. 



CHAPTER II. 

The Expectations of posthumous Pain and Pleasure, which 
Natural Religion holds out, considered simply and in 
themselves, 

THE pains and pleasures, which are believed to await us in 
a posthumous existence, may be anticipated either as 
conditional, and dependent upon the present behaviour of the' 
believer, or as unconditional dispensations, which no con- 
duct on his part can either amend or aggravate. Though 
perhaps it is impossible to produce any case in which the 
belief has actually assumed this latter shape, yet it will be 
expedient to survey it in this most general and indetermi- 
nate form, before we introduce the particular circumstances 
which have usually accompanied the reception of it. A few 
considerations will suffice to ascertain, whether expectations 
of posthumous pains and pleasures, considered in themselves 
and without any reference to the direction which they may 
give to human conduct, are of a nature to occasion happiness 
or misery to the believer. 

Nothing can be more undeniable, than that a posthumous 



12 



existence, if sincerely anticipated, is most likely to appear 
replete with impending pain and misery. The demonstra- 
tion is brief and decisive. 

A posthumous state of existence is necessarily unknown 
and impervious to human vision. We cannot see the ground 
which is before us. We possess not the slightest means of 
knowing whether it resembles that which we have already 
trodden. The scene before us is wrapped in impenetrable 
darkness. In this state of obscurity and ignorance, the 
imagination usurps the privilege of filling up the void, and 
what are the scenes which she portrays ? They are similar 
to those with which the mind is overrun during a state of 
earthly darkness — the product of unmixed timidity and 
depression ; fear is the never-failing companion and off- 
spring of ignorance, and the circumstances of human life 
infallibly give birth to such a communion. For the painful 
sensations are the most obtrusive and constant assailants 
which lie in ambush round our path. The first years of 
our life are spent in suffering under their sting, before we 
acquire the means of warding them off. The sole acquisi- 
tion applicable to this purpose is knowledge — knowledge of 
the precise manner and occasion in which we are threat- 
ened, and of the antidote which may obviate it. Still 
however the painful sensations are continually on the 
watch to take advantage of every unguarded moment ; nor 
is there a single hour of our life in which the lessons of 
experience are not indispensably necessary for our protec- 
tion against them. 

Since then it is only to knowledge that we owe our 
respite from perpetual suffering; wherever our knowledge 
fails us and we are reduced to a state of unprotected help- 
lessness, all our sense of security, all anticipations of future 
ease, must vanish along with it. Ignorance must generate 
incessant alarm and uneasiness. The regular economy of 
the universe, by which nature is subjected to general 
laws, and the past becomes the interpreter of the future, is 
often adduced as a reason for extolling the beneficence of 
the Deity; and a reliance on the stability of events, as well 
as in the efficacy of the provision we have made against the 
future, is justly regarded as the most indispensable ingre- 
dient in human happiness. Had we no longer any confident 



13 



expectation that to-morrow would resemble yesterday — were 
we altogether without any rule for predicting what would 
occur to us after this night, how shocking would be our 
alarm and depression ? The unknown future, which was 
about to succeed, would be pregnant to our affrighted 
imaginations with calamity from which we knew not how 
to shelter ourselves. Infants are timorous to a proverb, 
and perhaps there is scarcely any man, possessed of vision, 
whom darkness does not impress with some degree of 
apprehension and uneasiness. Yet if a man fancies him- 
self unsheltered, when only the visible prognostics of im- 
pending evil are effaced, while all his other means of fore- 
sight and defence remain inviolate, how much keener will 
be the sense of his unprotected condition, when all means 
of predicting or averting future calamity are removed 
beyond his reach ? If, in the one case, his alarmed fancy 
peoples the darkness with unreal enemies, and that too in 
defiance of the opposing assurances of reason, what an 
array of suffering will it conjure up in the other, where the 
ignorance and helplessness, upon which the alarm is founded, 
is so infinitely magnified, and where reason cannot oppose 
the smallest tittle of evidence ? 

I have thus endeavoured to show that from the uninter- 
mitting peril to which human life is exposed, and the per- 
petual necessity of knowledge to protect ourselves against 
it, mankind must infallibly conceive an unknown future as 
fraught with misery and torment. But this is not the only 
reason which may be assigned for such a tendency. Pain 
is a far stronger, more pungent, and more distinct sensation 
than pleasure; it is more various in its shapes, more defi- 
nite and impressive upon the memory, and lays hold of the 
imagination with greater mastery and permanence. Pain, 
therefore, is far more likely to obtrude itself upon the con- 
ceptions, where there exists no positive evidence to circum- 
scribe their range, than pleasure. Throughout the catalogue 
of human suspicions, there exists not a case in which our 
ignorance is so profound as about the manner of a post- 
humous existence ; and since no reason can be given for 
preferring one mode of conceiving it to another, the strong- 
est sensations of the past will be perfectly sure to break in, 
and to appropriate the empty canvas. Pain will dictate 



14 



our anticipation, and a posthumous life will be apprehended 
as replete with the most terrible concomitants which such 
a counsellor can suggest. 

Besides, pain alone, and want or uneasiness, which is a 
species of pain, are the standing provisions of nature. Even 
the mode of appeasing those wants, is the discovery of 
human skill ; what is called pleasure is a secondary form- 
ation, something superadded to the satisfaction of our 
wants by a farther reach of artifice; and only enjoyable 
when that satisfaction is perfect for the present, as well as 
prompt and certain for the future. Want and pain, there- 
fore, are natural; satisfaction and pleasure, artificial and 
invented : and the former will on this ground also be more 
likely to present itself as the characteristic of an unknown 
state, than the latter. 

The preceding arguments seem to evince most satisfac- 
torily, that a posthumous existence, if really anticipated, is 
far more likely to be conceived as a state of suffering, than 
of enjoyment. Such anticipation, therefore, considered in 
itself, and without any reference to the direction which it 
gives to human conduct, will assuredly occasion more 
misery than happiness to those who entertain it. 

Though believers in a posthumous existence seldom in 
fact anticipate its joys or torments as unconditionally 
awaiting them, and altogether independent of their present 
conduct, yet it is important to examine the effects and 
tendency of the belief, when thus entertained. We fre- 
quently hear the hope of immortality magnified as one of 
the loftiest privileges and blessings of human nature, with- 
out which man would be left in a state of mournful and 
comfortless destitution. To all these vague declamations, 
by which it is attempted to interest the partiality of man- 
kind in favour of the belief in question, the foregoing 
arguments furnish a reply ; they demonstrate that such 
anticipations, so far from conferring happiness on mankind, 
are certain to fasten in preference upon prospects of 
torments, and to occasion a large overplus of apprehension 
and uneasiness — at least until some revelation intervenes 
to settle and define them, and to terminate that ignorance 
which casts so terrific a character over the expected scenes. 

He who imagines himself completely mortal, suffers no 



15 



apprehension or misery, in this life, from the prospect of 
death, except that which the pains attending it, and the 
loss of present enjoyments, unavoidably hold out. A post- 
humous existence, if anticipated as blissful, would doubtless 
greatly alleviate the disquietude which the prospect of death 
occasions. It cannot be denied that such a persuasion 
would prove the source of genuine happiness to the believer. 
But the fact is, that a posthumous existence is not, by the 
majority of believers, anticipated as thus blissful, but as 
replete with terrors. The principles of human nature, to 
which reference has been made in the foregoing arguments, 
completely warrant this conclusion, supposing no revelation 
at hand to instil and guarantee more consoling hopes. It 
is obvious therefore, that natural religion, alone and unas- 
sisted, will to the majority of its believers materially aggra- 
vate the disquietude occasioned by the prospect of death. 
Instead of soothing apprehensions which cannot be wholly 
dispelled, it would superadd fresh grounds of uneasiness, 
wrapped up in an uncertainty which only renders them 
more painful and depressing. 

Having thus ascertained, that posthumous anticipations, 
considered in themselves and in their capacity of feelings, 
occasion more unhappiness than benefit to the believer, I 
shall now examine them under that point of view in which 
they are commonly regarded as most beneficial and 
valuable. 



CHAPTER III. 

The Expectations of posthumous Pain and Pleasure, which 
Natural Religion holds out, considered as conditional^ 
and as exercising Influence upon human Conduct. 

IT is in this mode that such expectations are commonly 
regarded as most beneficipJ to mankind. The anticipation 
of posthumous pleasure and pain, conditional upon the;, 



16 



actions of the believer, is affirmed to imprint upon indi- 
vidual conduct a bias favourable to the public happiness. 
.( shall now proceed to investigate the validity of this plea, 
which has hitherto been seldom challenged. 

If natural religion contributes to human happiness, by- 
means of the influence which it exercises on the conduct 
of men, such a result can be brought about only in one of 
these ways : Either it must provide a directive rule, com- 
municating the knowledge of the right path — or it must 
furnish a sanction or inducement for the observance of some 
directive rule, supposed to be known from other sources. 
Unless it thus either admonishes or impels, it cannot possibly 
affect in any way the course of human nature. 

SECTION I. NATURAL RELIGION FURNISHES NO DIRECTIVE 

RULE WHATEVER. 

It is obvious at first sight, that natural religion commu- 
nicates to mankind no rule of guidance. This is the 
leading defect which revelation is stated to supply, by pro- 
viding an authentic enumeration of those acts to which 
future pains and pleasures are annexed. Independent of 
revelation, it cannot be pretended that there exists any 
standard to which the believer in a posthumous existence 
can apply for relief and admonition. The whole prospect 
is wrapt in impenetrable gloom, nor is there a streak of 
light to distinguish the one true path of future happiness 
from the infinite possibilities of error with which it is 
surrounded. 

Nor is the absence of any authoritative collection of 
rules, by which the believer might adjust his steps in all 
circumstances, however difficult, the only defect to be 
remarked. Experience imparts no information upon the 
subject. That watchful scout, who on all other occasions 
spies out the snares and terrors of the march, and points 
out the path of comparative safety, here altogether deserts 
us. We search in vain for any witness who may enlighten 
this deplorable ignorance. The distribution of these pains 
and pleasures is completely unseen, nor does either the 
gainer or loser ever return to testify the mode of dispensing 
them. We cannot therefore pretend even to conjecture 
whether there is any general rule observed in awarding 



17 



them ; or if there be a rule, what are its dictates. It is 
impossible to divine what behaviour is visited with severity, 
what conduct leads to pleasurable results, during a state in 
which there is not a glimmering of light to guide us. 

The natural religionist therefore is not only destitute of 
any previous official warning, by a compliance with which 
he may ensure safety or favour : he has not even the means 
of consulting those decisions according to which the plea- 
sures and pains are actually awarded to actions already 
committed. Not only is there no statute law extant, dis- 
tinguishing, with that strict precision which should charac- 
terize the legislator as he ought to be, the path of happi- 
ness from that of misery: even the imperfect light of 
common law is here extinguished — even that record of 
decisions is forbidden from whence we might at least 
borrow some shadowy and occasional surmises, and learn to 
steer clear of the more excruciating lots of pain. The 
darkness is desperate and unfathomable ; and as truth and 
rectitude can be but a single track amidst an infinity of 
divergent errors, the chances in favour of a wrong line of 
conduct are perfectly incalculable. Yet a false step, if once 
committed, is altogether without hope or remedy. For 
when the posthumous sufferings are inflicted, the hour of 
application and profit is irrevocably past, and the sufferer 
enjoys not even the melancholy consolation which he might 
derive from the hope of preventing any future repetition of 
the same torture. 

It seems, therefore, almost unaccountable, that natural 
religion, how rich soever its promises, how terrible soever 
its threats, should exercise the least influence upon human 
conduct, since the conditions of its awards are altogether 
veiled from our sight. Why does the prospect of other 
pains affect our conduct ? Because experience teaches us 
the actions to which they are specially attached. Until we 
acquire this knowledge, our behaviour cannot possibly be 
actuated by the anticipations which they create. How 
then can natural religion, shrouded as it is in such match- 
less obscurity, prove an exception to these infallible prin- 
ciples, and impel mankind without specifying a single 
benefit derivable from one course of action rather than 
another ? 

c 



18 



Since however it unquestionably does exercise some 
influence upon human conduct, this must be effected by- 
providing inducements for some extraneous directive rule. 
I shall proceed to examine the nature of the precepts which 
it thus adopts and enforces, since there are none peculiarly 
suggested by itself. 

SECTION II. — NATURAL RELIGION INDIRECTLY SUGGESTS, AND APPLIES 
HER INDUCEMENTS TO THE OBSERVANCE OF, A RULE OF ACTION 
VERY PERNICIOUS TO THE TEMPORAL INTERESTS OF MANKIND. 

In inquiring what extraneous rules of conduct are likely 
to promise either posthumous pleasure, or security from 
posthumous pain, we are unable to perceive, at first, how 
the believer should be led to any preference or conclusion 
upon the subject. So completely are we destitute of 
evidence, that it seems presumptuous to select any one 
mode of conduct, or to exclude any other. Experience 
alone can announce to us what behaviour is attended with 
enjoyment or discomfort during this life ; it is this guide 
alone who informs us that the taste of fruit will procure 
pleasure, or that contact with the fire will occasion pain, 
and if the trial had never been made, we should to this 
day have remained ignorant even of these trite and familiar 
facts. We could not have affirmed or denied anything 
about them. Suppose a species of fruit perfectly new to 
be discovered. If any one, before either he himself or 
some one else has tasted it, confidently pronounces that it 
is sweet and well flavoured, an assertion so premature and 
uncertified could be treated only with contempt. We 
should term it folly and presumption thus to prophesy 
the pleasure or pain consequent in this life upon any parti- 
cular conduct, prior to any experimental test. Whence 
comes it then, that the same certificate, which is allowed to 
be our only safeguard here against the dreams and chimeras 
of fancy, should be dismissed as superfluous and unneces- 
sary in our anticipations of posthumous pain and pleasure ? 
If a man ignorant of medicine is unable to point out a 
course of life which shall, if pursued in England, preserve 
him from liability to the yellow fever when he goes to 
aica, how much more boldness is required to prescribe 



19 



a preparatory course against consequences still farther 
removed from the possibility of conjecture ? 

Rash, however, as such anticipations may seem to be, 
they have almost universally obtained reception, under 
some form or other. And it is highly important to trace 
the leading assumptions which have governed the pro- 
phecies of men on the subject of posthumous pain and 
pleasure — to detect those universal principles which never 
fail to stand out amidst an infinite variety of subordinate 
accompaniments . 

Natural religion merely implants in a man the expecta- 
tion of a posthumous existence, involving awards of enjoy- 
ment and suffering apportioned by an invisible Being. 
This we suppose it to assure and certify ; beyond this, all 
is dark and undiscovered. But on a subject so dim and 
yet so terrible, the obtrusive conjectures of fancy will not 
be silenced, and she will proceed to particularize, and 
interpolate without delay. The character of the invisible 
Being in whose hands these fearful dispensations are 
lodged, will present the most plausible theme for her 
speculations. If his temper, and the actions with which 
he is pleased or displeased, can be once discovered, an 
apparent clue to the secret sentences of futurity will be 
obtained. He will gratify those whose conduct he likes ; 
injure those whose behaviour is disagreeable to him. But 
what modes of conduct will he be supposed to approve or 
disapprove ? 

Before we proceed to unfold the principles which govern 
our suppositions regarding his temper, it may be important 
to point out, in a few words, the insufficient basis upon 
which all anticipations of future enjoyment or suffering are 
built, independent of revelation. The pains and pleasures 
of a posthumous life are under the dispensation of the 
invisible Being. But so also are the pains and pleasures 
of this life. You do not found any expectations regarding 
the latter upon any assumed disposition of their invisible 
Dispenser. You do not pacify your ignorance of those 
causes which may create a tendency to the yellow fever, by 
conjecturing that certain actions are displeasing to his 
feelings. Predictions founded upon such wretched surmise 
would indicate the meanest imbecility. Why then should 

c 2 



20 



such evidence be considered as sanctioning anticipations of 
posthumous awards, when the commonest experience will 
not allow it to be employed to interpret the dispensations 
of the very same Being in the present life ? In estimating 
the chances of life and death, of health and disease, no 
insurer ever inquires whether the actions of the applicant 
have been agreeable or disagreeable to the Deity. And 
the reasoning, upon which the trial by ordeal rests, is 
regarded with unqualified contempt, implying, as it does, 
that this Being approves or detests modes of action, and 
that he will manifest these feelings by dispensations in this 
life, of favour or severity. Yet this is merely a consistent 
application of the very same shift, for superseding the 
necessity of experience, on which the posthumous prophe- 
cies of natural religion are founded. 

In this life, however, it may be urged, there are laws of 
nature which the Deity cannot or will not interrupt. But 
why should there not also be posthumous laws of nature, 
discoverable only by experience of them, and inviolable to 
the same extent ? The presumption unquestionably is, 
that there are such posthumous laws, and that we can no 
more predict, from a reference to the attributes of the Deity, 
the modes of acquiring pleasure and avoiding pain in a 
posthumous life, than we can in this. 

Amidst the dimness and distance of futurity, however, 
reason is altogether struck blind, and we do not scruple to 
indulge in these baseless anticipations. The assumed cha- 
racter of the invisible Dispenser is the only ground on 
which fancy can construct her scale of posthumous pro- 
motion and disgrace. And thus the rule of action, to 
which natural religion will affix her inducements of future 
vengeance and remuneration, will be framed entirely upon 
the conceptions entertained regarding his character. 

We thus find ourselves somewhat nearer to the object of 
the present inquiry, whether natural religion conduces to 
the happiness or misery of mankind during the present 
life. It appears that natural religion does not itself origi- 
nate any rule of action whatever, and that the rule which it 
is supposed to second and enforce depends only upon con- 
ceptions of the temper of the Deity. If he is conceived to 
be perfectly beneficent — having no personal affections of his 



21 



own, or none but such as are coincident with the happiness 
of mankind — patronising those actions alone which are 
useful, and exactly in the degree in which they are use- 
ful — detesting in a similar manner and proportion those 
which are hurtful — then the actions agreeable to him will 
be beneficial to mankind, and inducements to the perform- 
ance of them will promote the happiness of mankind. If, 
on the other hand, he is depicted as unbeneficent — as 
having personal affections seldom coincident with human 
happiness, frequently injurious to it, and almost always 
frivolous and exactive — favouring actions which are not 
useful at all, or not in the degree in which they are useful — 
disapproving with the same caprice and without any refer- 
ence to utility — then the course of action by which his 
favour is to be sought, will be more or less injurious to 
mankind, and inducements to pursue it will in the present 
life tend to the production of unhappiness. 

From this alternative there can be no escape. According 
to the temper of the Being whom we seek to please, will 
be the mode of conduct proper for conciliating his favour. 
To serve the devil is universally considered as implying 
the most abhorrent and detestable behaviour. 

If we consult the language in which mankind speak of 
the Deity, we shall be led to imagine that he is in their 
conception a being of perfect and unsullied beneficence, 
uniting in himself all that is glorious and all that is amiable. 
Such is the tendency and amount of the words which they 
employ. Strange, however, as the inconsistency may 
appear, it will not be difficult to demonstrate, that mere 
natural religion invariably leads its votaries to ascribe to 
their Deity a character of caprice and tyranny, while they 
apply to him, at the same moment, all those epithets of 
eulogy and reverence which their language comprises. This 
discrepancy between the actual and the pretended conception 
is an infallible result of the circumstances, and agreeable to 
the principles of human nature. 

1 . What are the fundamental data, as communicated by 
natural religion, respecting the Deity, from which his temper 
and inclinations are to be inferred ? A power to which we 
can assign no limits — an agency which we are unable to 
comprehend or frustrate — such are the original attributes 



from which the disposition of the possessor is to be 
gathered. 

Now the feeling which excessive power occasions in those 
who dwell under its sway, is extreme and unmixed fear. 
This is its appropriate and never-failing effect, and he who 
could preserve an undisturbed aspect in the face of a power 
against which he knew of no protection, and which might 
destroy him in an instant, would justly be extolled as a man 
of heroic firmness. But what is the temper of mind which 
fear presupposes in the object which excites it ? A dis- 
position to do harm. Now a disposition to do harm, con- 
joined to the power of effecting it at pleasure, constitutes 
the very essence of tyranny. Examine the fictitious narra- 
tives respecting men of extraordinary strength. You will 
find a Giant or a Cyclops uniformly pourtrayed as cruel in 
the extreme, and delighted with the scent of human blood. 
Such are the dispositions which the human fancy naturally 
imagines as guiding the employment of irresistible might. 
Our terrors (as Father Malebranche remarks) justify them- 
selves, by suggesting appropriate persuasions of impending 
evil, and compel us to regard the possessor of unlimited 
powers as a tyrant. 

The second characteristic of the Deity is an unknown and 
incomprehensible agency.; Now an incomprehensible mode 
of behaviour, not reducible to any known principles, is in 
hurnan affairs termed caprice, when confined to the trifling 
occurrences of life ; insanity, when it extends to important 
occasions. The capricious or the insane are those whose 
proceedings we cannot reconcile with the acknowledged 
laws of human conduct — those whose conduct defies our 
utmost sagacity of prediction. They are incomprehensible 
agents endued with limited power. The epithets capricious, 
insane, incomprehensible, are perfectly convertible and 
synonymous. 

Let experience now teach us the feelings with which 
mankind usually regard the mad, the wayward, and the 
unfathomable course of proceeding 1 among themselves. 
They laugh at the caprices of a child; they tremble at the 
incoherent speech and gestures of a madman. Every one 
shrinks with dismay from the presence of the latter; the 
laws instantly enclose his body, and thrust upon it the 



23 



invincible manacles of matter, since no known apprehension 
will act as a sufficient coercive upon his mind. Caprice and 
insanity, when accompanied even with the limited strength 
of a man, excite in us the keenest alarm, which is only 
heightened by the indefinite shape of the coming evil. 

But let us suppose this object of our terror to be still 
farther strengthened. What if we arm the incomprehensible 
man with a naked sword ! What if we figure him, like the 
insane Orlando of Ariosto, roaming about with an invulner- 
able hide, and limbs insensible to the chain ! What if, still 
farther, he be intrusted with the government of millions, 
seconded by irresistible legions who stand ready at his beck ! 
Can the utmost stretch of fancy produce any picture so 
appalling, as that of a mad, capricious, and incomprehensible 
Being exalted to this overwhelming sway ? Yet this terrific 
representation involves nothing beyond surpassing might, 
wielded by one whose agency is unfathomable. And these 
are the two attributes, the alliance of which, in a measure 
still more fearful and unlimited, constitutes the Deity, as 
pour tray ed by natural religion. 

So complete is this identity between incomprehensible 
conduct and madness, that amongst early nations, the mad- 
man is supposed to be under the immediate inspiration and 
control of the Deity, whose agency is always believed to 
commence where coherent and rational behaviour terminates. 

But the Deity (it will be urged) treats us with favour and 
kindness, and this may suffice to remove our apprehensions 
of him. I reply, that the most valuable gift could never efface 
them, while the proceedings of the donor continued to be 
entirely inconsistent and unintelligible. It is the very essence 
of caprice and madness, that present behaviour constitutes 
C no security whatever for the future. Our disquietude for the 
future must therefore remain as oppressive as before, and 
can never be relieved by these occasional gusts of transient 
good-humour. As few men hope, and almost every one fears, 
in cases where no assured calculation can be framed, it is 
obvious that this irregular favouritism would still leave us 
in all the restlessness of suspense and uncertainty. 

The actual conception, therefore, which mankind will 
form of the Deity, from the consideration of those original 
data which unassisted natural religion promulgates con- 



24 



cerning him, seems now to be sufficiently determined. He will 
not be conceived as designing constant and unmixed evil, 
for otherwise his power would carry it into effect ; nor, for 
the same reason, as meditating universal and unceasing 
good. While there exists good in the universe, such a 
power cannot be wielded by perfect malevolence; while 
there exists evil, it cannot be directed by consummate 
benevolence. 1 Besides, either of these two suppositions 
would destroy the attribute of incomprehensibility and 
would substitute in their stead a consecutive and intelligible 
system of action. The Deity therefore will be conceived as 
fluctuating between the two; sometimes producing evil, 
sometimes good, but infinitely more as an object of terror 
than of hope. His changeful and incomprehensible inclina- 
tions will be supposed more frequently pernicious than 
beneficial to mankind, and the portrait of a capricious 
tyrant will thus be completed. 

2. Unamiable, however, and appalling as this conception 
may actually be, it is equally undeniable that no language, 

1 Plato tells us that the Deity is perfectly and systematically well 
intentioned, but that he was prevented from realizing these designs, by 
the inherent badness and intractable qualities of matter. This sup- 
position does indeed vindicate the intentions of the Supreme Being, 
but only by grievously insulting his power and limiting his omnipo- 
tence. According to this theory, the Deity becomes a perfectly compre- 
hensible person ; and the attribute of incomprehensibility being taken 
away, all the preceding reasonings which are founded on it fall to the 
ground. But at the same time that he becomes perfectly comprehen- 
sible, he becomes a thorough dead letter with regard to all human 
desires and expectations. For by the supposition his power only 
extends to the production of the already existing amount of good. He 
can produce no more good — that is, he can be of no farther use to any 
one, and therefore it is vain to trouble ourselves about him. 

But what evidence is there for this doctrine of Plato ? Not the 
shadow of an argument can be produced in its favour, and where 
nothing is set up as a defence, one cannot tell where to aim an attack. 
The only mode of assailing it is by constructing a similar phantom on 
one's own side, in order to expose the absurdity of the first by its 
resemblance to the second. Conformably to this rule, I affirm that the 
Deity is perfectly and systematically malevolent, and that he was only 
prevented from realizing these designs by the inherent goodness and 
incorruptible excellence of matter. I admit that there is not the 
smallest evidence for this, but it is just as well supported, and just as 
probable as the preceding theory of Plato. 



25 



except that of the most devoted reverence and eulogy, will 
ever be employed in describing or addressing the Deity. 
To demonstrate this, it will be necessary to revert to the 
origin of praise and blame. 

Praise is the expression of goodwill and satisfaction 
towards the person who has occasioned us a certain plea- 
sure. It intimates a readiness on our part to manifest this 
goodwill by some farther repayment. It supposes the per- 
formance of a service which we have neither the right to 
expect nor the means of exacting. We bestow it in order 
to evince to the performer of the service and to the public 
in general, that we are not insensible to the favour received, 
and that we are disposed to view all who thus benefit us 
with peculiar complacency. Our praise therefore is destined 
to operate as a stimulus to the repetition of that behaviour 
by which we profit. 

Blame, on the contrary, is the signal of dissatisfaction 
and wrath against the person who has caused us pain. It 
implies a disposition which would be gratified by inflicting 
injury upon him. It proclaims to him, and to every one 
else, our sense of the hurt, and the perils prepared for all 
who treat us in a similar manner. And we design, by means 
of it, to frighten and deter every one from conduct noxious 
to our welfare. 

Such is the origin and such the intention of the language 
of encomium and dispraise. Each is a species of sanction, 
vested in the hands of every individual, and employed by 
him for his own benefit ; the former remuneratory , and 
destined to encourage the manifestation of kindness to- 
wards him; the latter punitory, and intended to prevent 
injurious treatment. 

Having thus unfolded the nature of praise and censure, 
it will not be difficult to explain the laws which govern 
their application ; and to separate the circumstances in 
which a man will praise, from those in which he will 
blame. 

Our employment of the punitory sanction, or of blame; is 
in exact proportion to our power; our employment of the 
remuneratory sanction, or of praise, is in a similar manner 
proportional to our weakness. 

The man of extraordinary power, who possesses unlimited 



26 



disposal of the instruments of terror, has not the slightest 
motive to praise. His blame, the herald and precursor of 
impending torture, is abundantly sufficient to ensure con- 
formity to his will. The remuneratory sanction is in its 
nature comparatively feeble and uncertain; the punitory ^ 
when applied in sufficient magnitude, is altogether infallible 
and omnipotent. He who possesses an adequate command 
of the latter, will never condescend to make use of the 
former. He will regard himself as strictly entitled to the 
most unqualified subservience on the part of those whom he 
might in an instant plunge into excruciating torments. If 
he partially waives the exercise of this prerogative, he will 
consider it as an undeserved extension of mercy. 

On the other hand, the man without strength or influence, 
who cannot hurt us even if he wished it, is cut off from the 
employment of the punitory sanction. His blame is an im- 
potent murmur, threatening no future calamity, and there- 
fore listened to with indifference. It would, under these 
circumstances, revolt and irritate us, or else provoke our 
clerision, In either case, it would only render us less dis- 
posed to conform to his will, and policy therefore will induce 
him to repress it altogether. His sole method of influencing 
our behaviour is by a prodigal employment of the remune- 
ratory sanction — by repaying the slightest favour with un- 
bounded expressions of gratitude — by lavishing upon us 
such loud and devoted eulogy, as may impress us with his 
readiness to consecrate to our benefit all the energies of a 
human being, if we condescend to repeat our kindness. 
Such are the methods by which, he endeavours to magnify 
and exaggerate the slender bounty which fortune permits 
him to apply in encouragement of the favours of mankind. 

The most copious experience may be adduced in support 
of these principles. Does the planter, whom the law arms 
with unlimited power, bestow any eulogy upon his slave, in 
return for the complete monopoly of his whole life and 
services ? He considers himself as entitled to demand all 
this, since he possesses the means of extorting its fulfilment. 
Let us trace the descending scale of power, and mark how 
the approach of weakness gradually unsheaths the remune- 
ratory sanction. Were his free labourer (particularly in those 
lands where labour is scarce and highly paid) to work in his 



27 



employment with an energy and devotion at all comparable 
to that which he exacts from his slave, the planter wonld 
be prompt in applying the stimulus and encouragement of 
eulogy. A slighter service, on the part of a friend of equal 
rank, will draw from him encomiums on the kind and 
generous temper by which he has benefited. But the merest 
civility, even a peculiar look or word, bestowed by the king 
or a superior, is sufficient to impress upon him the deepest 
esteem and reverence. He loudly extols the gracious deport- 
ment of a person upon whom he had no claim, and from 
whom he could have entertained no expectations. 

If any one makes me a present of a considerable sum I 
magnify his bounty to the skies ; I recommend him to the 
public by all the epithets significant of kindly and benefi- 
cent feelings, and thus display the conspicuous return which 
I am ready to make for such treatment. But let the govern- 
ment grant me a claim upon his estate, however unjustly, 
and the premium of praise is no longer necessary when I 
am thus master of the engine of exaction. I no longer 
therefore bestow upon him by whose labour I profit, those 
laudatory terms which promise good will on my part. cc Is 
it not enough for him (said Charles I. when the death of 
Lord Northampton was commended to his sympathy) — Is it 
not enough that he has died for his king ? " So thoroughly 
is the standing demand which any one makes upon his 
fellow-creatures, measured by the extent of his compulsory 
power. It is upon those services only, which overstep this 
limit, and which he possesses not the means of extorting, 
that he will expend the tribute of his praise, or waste the 
incentive which it offers to a future reproduction of favours. 
Charles I. would not have uttered such a sentence the clay 
before his execution. 

With the weak, again, the punitory sanction is completely 
silenced and annulled. A slave never dreams of announcing 
dissatisfaction at the conduct of his master. If he did 
so, the consequence would be an additional infliction of 
stripes. In despotic governments you hear not a murmur 
against the oppressor — at least, until excess of suffering 
produces desperation. The* entire extinction of all free senti- 
ment among dependants and courtiers has become pro- 
verbial. They dare not express even that indirect and 



28 



qualified censure of their superior, which is implied in 
dissenting from his opinion. They tolerate his insults with 
a patience and complacency for which they reimburse 
themselves in their conversation with inferiors. Not only 
do they abstain from hinting that there is any censurable 
ingredient in his character, but they dare not even withhold 
their encomiums, lest they should seem to doubt his exalted 
merit. It is unnecessary to cite particular instances of a 
subservience and flattery so notorious. 

In proportion as we raise the inferior into equality, his 
blame becomes more efficacious, and is proclaimed oftener 
and more freely. Advance him still higher, and his pro- 
pensity to find fault will be still farther extended, until at 
last it becomes so excitable and eruptive, as to disregard 
altogether the feelings of others, and to visit with merci- 
less severity the most trivial defect of conformity to his 
wishes. 

From this examination we may extract some important 
principles, which will materially elucidate the object of the 
present inquiry. It appears, first, that the employment of 
praise or blame bears an exact ratio to the comparative 
weakness or strength of the critic. Weakness determines 
praise, strength blame ; and the force of either sentiment is 
measured by the extent of the determining quality. The 
greater the disparity of power, the more severe is the blame 
heaped upon the inferior, the more excessive the praise 
lavished upon the superior. Secondly, the employment of 
praise and blame is in an inverse ratio to each other. He who 
praises the most, blames the least; he who blames the most, 
scarcely praises at all. The man to whom the utmost 
praise is addressed, seldom hears any blame — and vice versa. 
Thirdly, the application of praise and blame bears an 
inverse ratio to the services performed. The greater the 
service rendered, the more is the performer of it blamed ; 
the less is he praised. There is no human being from 
whom the planter derives so much benefit as from his 
slave ; there is none upon whom he expends so little eulogy, 
or pours so much reproach. On the contrary, it is towards 
him who has the largest power of inflicting evil upon us, 
and who confers on us the most insignificant favours, that our 
encomiums are the warmest, our censure the most gentle 



29 



and sparing. A mere intermission of the whip, or perhaps 
an occasional holiday, will draw forth abundant expression 
of praise on the part of the slave. How gracious and 
beneficent is a sovereign styled, by him upon whom he has 
bestowed a single look of favour ! The vehemence of our 
praise is thus not measured by the extent of the kindness 
bestowed, but by the superiority of the donor to the re- 
ceiver, and implies only the dependence and disparity of 
the latter. 

If the foregoing account of praise and blame be correct, 
it presents an entire solution of the apparent discrepancy 
which suggested itself at the commencement of the inquiry. 
It explains how the Deity, although actually conceived 
(from the mere data of natural religion) as a capricious 
despot, is yet never described or addressed without the 
largest and most prodigal encomiums. For where is the 
case in which so tremendous an exaltation of the agent 
above the subject can be pointed out ? Where is the com- 
parative weakness of the latter so deplorably manifest ? 
The power of which we speak is unlimited, and there- 
fore, with respect to it, we are altogether prostrate 
and abject. It is, under such circumstances, the natural 
course, that we should abstain from all disparaging and 
provocative epithets, and repress every whisper which might 
indicate a tone of disaffection towards the Omnipotent. 
" Personne n'aime a prendre une peine inutile, meme un 
enfant/' observes Rousseau; and to proclaim an impotent 
hatred, besides being unmeaning and irrational, might 
prove positively noxious, by alienating any inclination to 
benefit us on the part of the Supreme. However painful 
may be the treatment which we experience at his hands, 
we must cautiously refrain from pronouncing our genuine 
sentiments of the injury, inasmuch as such a freedom might 
prolong or aggravate, but could never extenuate, our 
sufferings. 

The same weakness will give birth to an extravagant and 
unsparing use of the remuneratory sanction. We know 
well how little our epithets really signify or promise, since 
the Deity stands in no need of our good offices ; and 
therefore we endeavour to bestow force upon this host of 
unmeaning effusions by multiplying its numbers, and by 



30 



piling up superlative upon superlative. "We magnify the 
smallest crumb into a splendid benefaction, which merits 
on our part a return of endless devotion to his service. By 
thus testifying our own ready subservience — by applying 
to him terms significant of qualities morally good and 
beneficial to mankind, and thereby intimating that every 
one else owes to him a similar gratitude — we hope to con- 
stitute something like a motive for repeating the favour. 
This varied and exuberant flattery is the only mode of 
soothing the irritability of an earthly despot, and there- 
fore we naturally apply it to one of still more surpassing 
might. 

Suppose that any tyrant could establish so complete a 
system of espionage, as to be informed of every word which 
any of his subjects might utter. It is obvious that all 
criticisms upon him would be laudatory in the extreme, for 
they would be all pronounced as it were in the presence 
of the tyrant, and there we know that no one dares to ex- 
press even dissent of opinion. The unlimited agency of 
the Deity is equivalent to this universal espionage. He is 
conceived as the unseen witness of everything which passes 
our lips — indeed even of our thoughts. It would be 
madness, therefore, to hazard an unfavourable judgment 
of his proceedings, while thus constantly under his super- 
vision. 

It seems, therefore, sufficiently demonstrated, that the 
same incomprehensible power, which would cause the Deity 
to be conceived as a capricious despot, would also occasion 
him to be spoken of only under titles of the loftiest eulogy. 
For language is not the sign of the idea actually existing in 
the mind of the speaker — but of that which he desires to 
convey to the hearer. In the present case these two ideas 
are completely at variance, as they must uniformly be where 
there is an excessive disparity of power. 

It has been necessary to pursue the inquiry into the 
character of the Deity, as pourtrayed by natural religion, to 
a length which may possibly seem tedious. But as the rule 
of conduct, to which natural religion applies her induce- 
ments, depends altogether on the conceptions framed of the 
invisible governor of a posthumous existence — it is of the 
highest moment to lay bare the actual conceptions of him, 



31 



in order to ascertain whether a behaviour adjusted according 
to them will be beneficial or injurious to mankind. 

Since the dispositions of the Deity me, in this un- 
enlightened condition, supposed to be thus capricious and 
incomprehensible, it may seem extraordinary that mankind 
should have attempted to assign to them a definite 
boundary, by marking out any line of conduct as agreeable 
or disagreeable to him. 

But the fact is, that the terms incomprehensible and 
unlimited are merely negative, and therefore have no 
positive meaning whatever : Their actual import is, that 
the Deity is a being of whom we know less, and who has 
more power, than any other. We conceive him as differing 
only in degree from other possessors of power, and we 
therefore assimilate him the most closely to those earthly 
sovereigns in whom the most irresistible might resides. 

We are thus furnished with a clue to the actions which 
unassisted natural religion will represent as agreeable and 
odious to the Deity. Experience announces to us what 
practices will recommend us to the favour of terrestrial 
potentates, and what will provoke their enmity. From this 
analogy (the nearest we can attain upon the subject) will 
be copied the various modes of behaviour which the Deity 
is imagined to favour or abominate. To pursue the former 
course and avoid the latter, will be the directive rule to 
which the inducements of natural religion affix themselves. 
This directive rule will indeed ramify into many accidental 
shapes, among different nations ; but its general tenour and. 
spirit will, throughout, be governed by the analogy just 
mentioned, since that is our nearest resource and substitute 
in the total silence of experience. 

The central passion in the mind of a despot is an insa- 
tiate love of dominion, and thirst for its increase. All his 
approbation and disapprobation, all his acts of reward and 
punishment, are wholly dictated by this master-principle. 
I state this in a broad and unqualified manner; but I feel 
warranted by the amplest evidence, and by the concurrent 
testimony of political writers, almost all of whom stigmatize 
in the harshest language the unbridled government of a 
single man. 

Pursuing this clue, it will not be difficult to distinguish 



32 



tliose characters winch he will mark out as estimable or 
hateful. The foremost in his estimation will be that man 
who most essentially contributes to the maintenance of his 
power : the greatest object of his hatred will be he who 
most eminently threatens its annihilation. Next in the 
catalogue of merit will be inserted the person who can 
impress upon his mind, in the most vivid and forcible 
manner, the delicious conviction of his supremacy — who 
can rekindle this association continually, arid strike out 
new modes of application to prevent it from subsiding into 
indifference. Next in the list of demerit will appear the 
name of him, whose conduct tends to invalidate this 
consciousness of overwhelming might — whose open defiance 
or tardy conformity generates mistrust and apprehension — 
or who, at least, can contemplate with an unterrified and 
uninfluenced eye the whole apparatus of majesty. Such 
will be the most eminent subjects, both of favour and 
disgrace, on the part of the despot. 

In all cases where the gratification of his love of power 
is allied with the happiness of his subjects, qualities con- 
ducive to that happiness will recommend themselves to his 
patronage. But it is a melancholy truth, that this coinci- 
dence seldom, we might say never, occurs. He who is thus 
absorbed in love of dominion, cannot avoid loving the 
correlative and inseparable event — the debasement of those 
over whom he rules ; in order that his own supremacy may 
become more pointed and prominent. Of course he also 
has an interest in multiplying their privations, which are 
the symptoms and measure of that debasement. Besides, 
his leading aim is to diffuse among his subjects the keenest 
impressions of his own power. This is, in other words, to 
plant in their bosoms an incessant feeling of helplessness, 
insecurity and fear ; and were this aim realized, everything 
which deserves the name of happiness must, throughout 
their lives, be altogether overshadowed and stifled. 

Doubtless there will be occasions on which the view of 
prosperity will gratify him. Such will be the case when it 
is strongly associated with the exercise of his own creative 
fiat — and when its dependence upon and derivation from 
himself, is so glaring as to blazon forth conspicuously the 
majesty of the donor. In order thus to affect the public 



33 

mind, his benefits must be rare in their occurrence, be- 
stowed only on a few, and concentrated into striking and 
ostentatious masses. All the prosperity, therefore, in which 
he will take an interest will be that of a few favourites ; 
his own work achieved by the easy process of donation. 
This munificence of temper, however, is not only not 
coincident with the happiness of the community, but is 
altogether hostile to it. The former, because the real 
welfare of the many is to be secured not by occasional fits 
of kindness, but by the slow and unobtrusive effect of 
systematic regulations, built upon this study of human 
nature, discoverable only by patient thought, and requiring 
perpetual watchfulness in their application : The latter, 
because these donatives are at the bottom mere acts of 
spoliation, snatching away the labours of the many for the 
benefit of a favoured few. 

It thus plainly appears that the despot can never derive 
any pleasure from the genuine well being of the community, 
though he may at times gratify himself by exalting indi- 
viduals to sudden pre-eminence over the rest. Consequently 
the qualities conducive to the happiness of the community 
will not meet with the smallest encouragement from him. 
They will even be discouraged, indirectly at least, by the 
preference shown to other qualities not contributory to this 
end. But the personal affections of the despot have been 
shown to lead, in almost all cases, to the injury of the 
people. And therefore those mental habits, which tend to 
gratify these affections, will be honoured with his unqualified 
approval ; those which tend to frustrate them, will incur his 
detestation. In the former catalogue will be comprised all 
the qualities which lessen and depress human happiness ; in 
the latter, all which foster and improve it. 

Such is the scale according to which the praise and 
censure, the rewards and punishments, of the earthly 
potentate, will be dispensed. By this model, the nearest 
which experience presents, the conceptions of mankind must 
be guided, in conjecturing the character and inclinations of 
the Deity. 

The first place in the esteem of the Deity will, in pur- 
suance of this analogy, be allotted to those who disseminate 
his influence among men — who are most effectually em- 

D 



34 



ployed in rendering his name dreaded and reverenced, and 
enforcing the necessity of perpetual subjection to him. 
Priests, therefore, whose lives are devoted to this object, 
will be regarded as the most favoured class. 

The largest measure of his hate will in like manner be 
supposed to devolve on those who attempt to efface these 
apprehensions, and to render mankind independent of him, 
by removing the motives for their subjection. The most 
decisive way of effecting this is by presuming to call in 
question his existence — an affront of peculiar poignancy, to 
which the material despot is not exposed. Atheists, there- 
fore, will be the persons whom he is imagined to view with 
the most signal abomination. 

Immediately beneath the priests will be placed those who 
manifest the deepest and most permanent sense of his 
agency and power — in words, by the unceasing use of 
hyperbole, to extol the Deity and depress themselves — in 
action, by abstaining on his account from agreeable occu- 
pations, and performing ceremonies which can be ascribed 
to no other motive than the desire of pleasing him. Works, 
which can be ascribed to this motive alone, must from 
their very nature produce no good at all, or at least very 
little : for were they thus beneficial, they would be recom- 
pensed with the esteem and gratitude of mankind, and the 
performer of them might be suspected of having originally 
aimed at this independent advantage. Whereas he who 
whips himself every night, or prefaces every mouthful with 
a devotional formula, can hardly be supposed to have 
contemplated the smallest temporal profit, or to have had 
any other end in view, than that of pleasing the Deity. 
Such actions will be thought to convey to him the liveliest 
testimony of his own unparalleled influence, and the per- 
formers of them will be placed second in the scale of 
merit. 

Next to Atheists, his highest displeasure will be con- 
ceived to attach to those who either avowedly brave his 
power, or tacitly slight and disregard it — who indulge in 
language of irreverent censure, or withhold the daily offering 
of their homage and prostration — who dwell careless of his 
supremacy, and decline altogether the endurance of priva- 
tions from which no known benefit, either to themselves or 



35 



others, can arise. Such persons assume an independence 
which silently implies that the arm of the Deity is shortened 
and cannot reach them ; and they will, therefore, be con- 
sidered as the next objects of his indignation. 

These then are the qualities, which the natural religionist, 
guided by the experience of temporal potentates, will 
imagine the Deity to favour or dislike. To this extra- 
neous directive rule, therefore, the inducements of natural 
religion, and the expectations of a posthumous life, will 
apply themselves. Nor can we doubt, for an instant, that 
such a rule is highly detrimental to human happiness in 
this life. 

It cannot be otherwise, so long as nothing more is known 
of the Deity except that he possesses a superhuman power, 
and that we cannot understand his course of action. It is 
the essence of power to exact obedience ; and obedience 
involves privation and suffering on the part of the inferior. 
The Deity having power over all mankind, exacts an 
obedience co-extensive with his power; therefore all man- 
kind must obey him, or, in other words, immolate to his 
supremacy a certain portion of their happiness. He loves 
human obedience ; that is, he is delighted with human 
privations and pain, for these are the test and measure of 
obedience. He is pleased, when his power is felt and 
acknowledged : That is, he delights to behold a sense of 
abasement, helplessness, and terror, prevalent among man- 
kind. If, under the earthly despot, rewards and punish- 
ments are undeniably distributed in a manner injurious to 
human happiness — under the God of unassisted natural 
religion, whose attributes must be borrowed from the 
despot, the case must be similar. There is indeed this 
difference which deserves to be remarked, that those de- 
ductions from human happiness which the temporal poten- 
tate requires, are altogether unproductive and final : While 
those exacted by the Deity, though embracing the very 
same period, are in comparison transient and preparatory, 
entitling the contracting party to the amplest posthumous 
reimbursement. In the former case, the expenditure of 
suffering is a dead loss ; in the latter, it is a judicious sur- 
render of present, in expectation of future, advantages. 

But it may be urged in opposition, that the Deity is like 

d 2 



36 



a beneficent judge, and not like a despot — that lie fetters 
individual taste no farther than is necessary for the happi- 
ness of the whole. Eevelation may doubtless thus charac- 
terize him • but natural religion can never portray him 
under this amiable aspect. His power is irresistible, and 
therefore all limitations of it must be voluntary and self- 
imposed. How then can we venture to assume, that he 
will exact from individuals no more self-denial than is re- 
quisite for the benefit of the whole, unless it shall please 
him specially to communicate to us his recognition of such 
a boundary ? We cannot possibly know what boundary he 
will select, until he informs us. Prior to revelation, there- 
fore, the Deity can be conceived as nothing else but a 
despot — that is, the possessor of unrestricted sway. To 
compare him with a beneficent judge, is an analogy wholly 
fallacious and inadmissible. Why is the judge beneficent ? 
Because his power is derivative, dependent and responsible. 
Why does he impose upon individuals no farther sacrifices 
than are necessary to ensure the well being of the society ? 
Because all the compulsory force which he can employ is 
borrowed from the society, who will not permit it to be 
used for other purposes. Suppose these circumstances 
altered, and that the judge possesses himself of independent 
unresponsible power : The result is, that he becomes a 
despot, and ceases altogether to be beneficent. It is only 
when thus strengthened and unshackled that he becomes a 
proper object of comparison with the Deity — and then, 
instead of a judge, he degenerates invariably into an 
oppressor and a tyrant. 

Amongst other expressions of reverence towards the 
Deity, doubtless the appellation of a judge, one of the most 
adorable functions which can grace humanity, will not be 
omitted. But we have already shown that the language of 
praise is not on this occasion to be considered as indicating 
the existence of truly valuable qualities in the object. Be- 
cause that immensity of power, which is the distinguishing* 
attribute of the Deity, distorts the epithets of eulogy, and 
terrifies us into an offer of them, by way of propitiation, 
whether deserved or not by any preceding service. 

It seems clear then from the foregoing inquiry, that the 
posthumous hopes and fears held out by natural religion, 



37 



must produce the effect of encouraging actions useless and 
pernicious to mankind, but agreeable to the invisible Dis- 
penser, so far as his attributes are discoverable by unaided 
natural religion — and our conceptions of his character, are 
the only evidence on which we can even build a conjec- 
ture as to the conduct which may entail upon us posthu- 
mous happiness or misery. Whatever offers an encourage- 
ment to useless or pernicious conduct, operates indirectly 
to discourage that which is beneficial and virtuous. In 
addition, therefore, to the positive evil which these induce- 
ments force into existence of themselves, they are detri- 
mental in another way, by stifling the growth of genuine 
excellence, and diverting the recompence which should be 
exclusively reserved for it. 



CHAPTER IV. 



Further Considerations on the temporal Usefulness of that 
Rule of Action, which the Inducements of Natural 
Religion enforce. 

THOUGH the preceding argument, drawn from the 
character which unassisted reason cannot fail to ascribe 
to the Deity, seems amply sufficient to evince that the 
expected distribution of his favour and enmity is not such 
as to stimulate useful, and to discountenance pernicious 
conduct (regarding merely the present life) ; yet I shall 
subjoin a few considerations in addition, which may tend 
to corroborate and enforce my principles. 

1. Suppose that by any peculiar perversion of reason, all 
belief in a God or in a future state should die away among 
the votaries of some Pagan system. Is it not perfectly un- 
questionable, that all which had been before conceived as 
the injunctions of natural religion, would at once be neg- 
lected and forgotten ? We need not take any trouble to 



38 



demonstrate this, partly because it is so obvious a conse- 
quence, partly because it is always implied in the outcry 
raised against atheistical writings. 

But the sources of pleasure and of pain, in this community, 
would still remain unaltered with regard to the present life, 
even in the state of impiety into which they had just plunged. 
What had been useful or pernicious to them before, would 
still continue to be so. They would have precisely the 
same motive to encourage the former and to repress the 
latter. Can any reason be given why their rewards and 
punishments should be insufficient to effect this end ? There 
will still, therefore, remain in the bosom of each individual, 
ample motive to behaviour beneficial to the society — ample 
motive against conduct injurious to it. 

To select a particular example. He who was, before the 
influx of disbelief, a skilful and diligent tradesman or physi- 
cian, will he on a sudden become imprudent or remiss ? 
Will he become indifferent to the acquisition of emolument 
and importance ? It will not surely be contended, that any 
such alteration of character or conduct is to be anticipated. 
Apply a similar supposition to the same man in other capa- 
cities — as a father, a husband, a trustee, or any other func- 
tion in which the happiness of some among his fellows 
depends upon his conduct. In neither of these cases will 
there be any motive for him to deviate from his former 
behaviour, supposing that to have been valuable and virtuous. 
But all the transactions, in which a man's conduct affects 
his fellow-creatures, may be comprised under some relation 
of this sort — and in none of these situations will he have any 
motive to exchange a beneficial for a noxious course of 
action. Consequently the expiration of religious belief will 
leave perfectly sufficient motive for the maintenance of con- 
duct really useful to mankind. 

If the practices enjoined by natural religion would expire 
without its support, this must be because there is no motive 
left to perform them. But to say that there is no such 
motive, proves that the practices produce no temporal 
benefit whatever : E converso, therefore, he who would 
maintain that pious works are temporally beneficial, must 
also affirm, that there would be motive enough to perform 
them, supposing our earthly existence to terminate in anni- 



39 



hilation. But no one ever thinks of asserting this : On 
the contrary^ the vital necessity of implicit belief, as an 
incentive, is loudly proclaimed, and the certain extinction 
of all religious performances, if unbelief should become 
general, is announced and deplored. It is altogether in- 
consistent and contradictory, therefore, to maintain, that 
there is any temporal benefit annexed to these practices — 
since this, if true, must constitute a motive common both 
to believers and unbelievers. 

2. If natural religion consisted in the practice of actions 
beneficial to mankind in the present life, the actions enjoined 
by it would be the same all over the earth. The sources 
of human pleasure and pain are similar everywhere, and 
therefore the modes of multiplying both one and the other 
will be similar throughout. Take, for example, any parti- 
cular branch of behaviour which is justly extolled as highly 
conducive to human happiness : You will find justice, 
veracity, or prudence, precisely the same in their nature^ 
although practised with very different degrees of strictness, 
both in the East, and in the West. If therefore piety con- 
sisted of a collection of qualities calculated to produce tem- 
poral benefit, you would discover the same identity between 
Pagan and Christian piety, as there is between Pagan and 
Christian justice or veracity. 

But the very reverse is most notoriously the fact. The 
injunctions and the practices of one religion are altogether 
different from those of every other. Believers in any one 
of them will view the rest with abhorrence. A Christian 
who visits a country where his religion has never been 
heard of, will doubtless expect to meet with just or vera- 
cious men, varying in frequency according to circumstances : 
but he will never once dream of discovering any Christians 
there. Christianity therefore does not consist in the mani- 
festation of qualities which confer temporal benefit on man- 
kind, since these are capable of universal growth in eveiy 
climate. 

A mere inquiry into the meaning of words will suffice to 
corroborate this. When we describe an individual as be- 
longing to any particular religion, the epithet implies that 
he entertains a certain set of persuasions, attested either 
by his own confession, or by a conformity, besides, to a 



40 



peculiar class of ceremonial practices which characterize the 
system. But by merely indicating the religion to which he 
adheres, no information has been conveyed as to his moral 
qualities, or whether his conduct is beneficial or noxious to 
his fellows. It may be either one or the other, whatever 
be the religion he adopts or believes in. In order to state 
with which class it ought to be ranked, we must employ a 
very different language. We must describe him as a good 
Pagan or a bad Pagan — a just or an unjust Mussulman — 
veracious or a liar. 

Consequently an adherence to the injunctions of religion 
is something entirely different from an habitual performance 
of beneficial actions. For the latter are everywhere uniform 
and identical, while the mandates of religion are infinitely 
various : And farther, in mentioning the system of religion 
to which any individual belongs, we do not at ail state 
whether his conduct is beneficent or pernicious — therefore 
an adherence to the system is perfectly consistent either 
with friendship or enmity to mankind. 

3. If the injunctions of piety inculcated performance or 
abstinence merely according as the action specified was 
beneficial or injurious in the present life, religion would be 
precisely coincident with human laws. For these latter are 
destined only to ensure the same end, employing temporal 
instead of posthumous sanctions. Religion would command 
and forbid the very same actions as the legislator, merely 
reinforcing his uncertain punishments with something more 
exquisite and more inevitable at the close of life. But it 
would give no new direction, of its own and for itself, to 
human conduct ; It would originate no peculiar duties or 
crimes, but would appear simply as an auxiliary, to second 
and confirm that bias which the legislator would have 
attempted to imprint without it. 

Such would have been the case had the mandates of 
natural religion a tendency to produce temporal happiness. 
How widely different is the state of the fact ! Throughout 
the globe, under every various system, we observe the most 
innocuous of human pleasures criminated and interdicted 
by piety ; pleasures such as the worst of human legislators 
never forbad, and never could discover any pretence for 
forbidding. W e observe a peculiar path of merit and 



41 



demerit traced out exclusively by religion — embracing nu- 
merous actions which the law has left unnoticed, and which 
we may therefore infer, are not recognized as deserving 
either reward or punishment with reference to the present 
life. It is altogether impossible, therefore, that the man- 
dates of natural religion can be directed to the promotion 
of temporal happiness, since they diverge so strikingly from 
the decrees of the legislators. Whatever other end they 
have in view, it cannot be the same as his. 

Indeed in modern times an express discussion has arisen, 
whether the civil magistrate can with propriety interfere at 
all in matters of religion. Among the more enlightened 
thinkers, the doctrine of toleration, or that of leaving every 
man to recommend himself to God by the methods which 
he himself prefers, so long as he abstains from injuring 
others, seems to be fully recognized. Scarcely any one 
now is found to vindicate the exaction of a forced uniformity 
of worship. But the very existence of the dispute deci- 
sively implies, that religion is not naturally coincident, in 
her injunctions, with laws — that no pious ritual is of a 
character, tending in itself to promote the happiness of 
society. The intolerant party attempted to enforce the 
propriety of giving to law an express extension over an 
apparently independent province ; their opponents endea- 
voured to maintain this province still untouched and unre- 
gulated. If these acts could have been shown to be pro- 
ductive of temporal benefit or evil, this would have been 
the point on which the question would have been deter- 
mined, as it is with regard to other cases of human conduct . 
No one would have contested the necessity, in the present 
times at least, of interdicting any acts of worship which 
might consist in wounding or plundering a neighbour. 
But the actual point in dispute was, whether out of a 
number of different rituals, perfectly on a level regarding 
temporal profit or injury, any particular one should be 
singly permitted and all the rest forbidden. The argument 
on one side was, that the Deity preferred the species of 
worship which they were advocating ; the other side pro- 
tested against this doctrine, as an unwarranted assumption 
of infallibility. 

It is not my purpose to enter farther into this question, 



42 



and I have only adduced it in order to evince, that the man- 
dates of religion are altogether separate in their nature and 
application from those of law, and therefore cannot possibly 
be similar in the end which they are destined to ensure — 
and also that this separation is virtually implied in both 
sides of the dispute on freedom of worship. 

4. We uniformly find religious injunctions divided into 
two branches, the first embracing our duty to God, the 
second our duty to man. However beneficial may be the 
tendency of this latter section, it is quite impossible that 
the former can produce any temporal happiness. For it is, 
by the very definition, a rule restrictive of our conduct on 
those occasions when the interests of other men are not at 
all concerned. On these occasions the legislator would have 
left us unfettered, since every man naturally selects that 
path which is most conducive to his temporal felicity. If 
any other course is thrust upon him from without, it must 
infallibly be a sacrifice of earthly happiness. 

That branch therefore, at least, of religious injunctions, 
which is termed our duty to God, must be regarded as detri- 
mental to human felicity in this life. It is a deduction from 
the pleasures of the individual, without at all benefiting the 
species. It must be considered, so far as the present life is 
concerned, as a tax paid for the salutary direction which the 
branch termed our duty to man is said to imprint upon 
human conduct, and for the special and unequalled efficacy, 
with which these sanctions are alleged to operate. Supposing 
also the operation of this latter branch to be noxious instead 
of salutary, the payment of the tax will constitute so much 
additional evil. 



43 



CHAPTER V. 

Of the Efficiency of the Inducements held out by Natural 
Religion. Hoiv far super-human Expectations can be 
regarded as likely to prove influential, where no human 
Inducements would be influential. 

THERE is some difficulty in estimating exactly the extent 
of influence which the super-human inducements, held 
out by natural religion, actually exercise over mankind. 
They appear always intermixed and confounded among that 
crowd of motives, which in every society submitted to our 
experience, impel human conduct in various directions. For 
the solution of the present inquiry, however, it is indis- 
pensably requisite to detach from this confused assemblage 
the inducements of natural religion, and to measure the 
force of the impulse which they communicate. 

There are two modes of determining this point. 1. By 
analysing the nature and properties of these super-human 
inducements, and comparing them with those human 
motives which commonly actuate our conduct. We shall 
thus discover how far those elements, which constitute and 
measure the force and efficiency of all human expectations, 
are to be found in the super-human. 2. By examining those 
cases where accident places them in a state of single and 
unassisted agency, and thus fortifying the preceding 
analysis with the direct certificate of experience, so far as 
that is attainable. 

Before, however, we embark in this investigation, it will 
be important to examine in what degree the super-human 
expectations, supposing their influence purely beneficial, can 
be considered as indispensable instruments in the produc- 
tion of happiness in this life ; or in other words, what is the 
number and importance of those cases, in which human in- 
ducements would be inapplicable and inoperative, and in 



44 



which posthumous expectations would effectually supply the 
defect. 

It will be easy to see that such cases are comparatively 
neither numerous nor important. For wherever the legis- 
lator can distinguish what actions it is desirable either to 
encourage or to prevent, he can always annex to them a 
measure of temporal reward or punishment commensurate 
to the purpose. It is only necessary that he should be able 
to distinguish and define such actions. To affirm therefore 
the necessity of a recurrence to super-human agency for the 
repression of any definable mode of conduct, is merely to 
say that human laws are defective and require amendment. 
If this be true, let them be amended, and there will remain 
no ground for the complaint. 

The gradations (you urge) by which guilt passes into 
innocence are often so nice as to be undiscoverable by the 
human eye, and to require the searching gaze of Omni- 
potence to detect their real point of separation. But if this 
be the case, how is it possible for the agent himself to know 
when he is acting well, and when he is verging towards 
evil ? The two are undistinguishable to all men besides ; 
why should they be otherwise to him ? He knows his own 
intention, indeed, perfectly : It is to perform a certain 
action, of which no one can tell whether the tendency is 
beneficial or injurious. He himself cannot tell either; it 
is possible that he may suspect the action to be mischievous, 
and still intend to commit it. But he may be in error on 
this point, even after the most accurate consideration, and 
where the distinction between good and evil is so completely 
unassignable, the chances of error are as great as those of 
truth. Expectation of punishment, in case of wrong decision, 
could only render him more attentive in weighing the con- 
sequences, and even after this, it appears, he would be just 
as likely to decide wrong as right. Consequently the expect- 
ation of punishment produces no benefit whatever. Besides, 
if he can judge correctly, the foundations of such a judgment 
may be comprehended, and the offence defined, by the legis- 
lator. In all cases therefore in which guilt cannot be defined, 
and thence, no punishment awarded by the legislator, the 
apprehension of punishment from any foreign source is un- 
productive of any advantage. 



45 



But there are cases in which an individual may commit 
an act expressly forbidden by the law, relying on the im- 
possibility or difficulty of detection. Doubtless there are 
such : And it is impossible to deny that on those occasions 
the apprehension of a posthumous verdict, from which there 
was no escape, might possibly supply an unavoidable defect 
in the reach of human laws. Secret crimes, however, are 
the only cases in which the super-human inducements can 
be pretended to effect an end to which human motives would 
be inadequate. In all other occasions, the inefficacy of human 
laws is merely a reproach to the legislator, who neglects to 
remedy a known defect. And even in the case of hidden 
delinquency, how frequently is the escape of the criminal 
owing to mistakes perfectly corrigible, such as an unskilful 
police, exclusion of evidence, barbarity in the punishment 
awarded, and other circumstances which tend to unnerve 
the arm of the law ! Supposing these imperfections to be 
removed, — suppose the penal code to be comprehensive and 
methodical, and its execution cheap, speedy, and vigilant, 
it would scarcely be practicable for the criminal to escape 
detection, when it was known that the crime had been 
committed. 

It is only, therefore, when a crime is known, and the 
criminal undiscoverable, that super-human inducements can 
be vindicated as indispensably necessary for the maintenance 
of good conduct. And as these cases must, under a well- 
contrived system, be uncommonly rare, the necessity and 
importance of such inducements must be restricted within 
very narrow limits. 

This is a point of some consequence. For if it should 
appear that these posthumous expectations are on many 
occasions of injurious tendency, the immediate inquiry must 
be, what exclusive benefit this mode of operating upon 
human conduct presents, in preference to any other. In 
reply to which, we have just demonstrated, that those cases 
in which beneficial influence is derivable solely from this 
source and not from any other, are few and inconsiderable. 
The extent of evil in this life would therefore be trifling, 
were super-human inducements entirely effaced from the 
human bosom, and earthly institutions ameliorated accord- 
ing to the progress of philosophy. The pernicious tendency, 



46 



which the former manifest on many occasions, will thus be 
compensated only by a very slender portion of essential and 
exclusive benefit. 

These considerations also evince, that if it were practi- 
cable to supply the defect of human restrictions by recourse 
to a foreign world, we should be anxious to import active 
and faithful informers — to purchase such a revelation as 
would render our inferences of criminality more easy, precise, 
and extensive, in order that guilt might never escape our 
detection. We should not desire to introduce instruments 
for multiplying and protracting human torture. With these 
we are abundantly provided, if it were prudent or desirable 
to employ them. No earthly legislator, therefore, would 
attempt, if in his power, to perfect the efficacy of temporal 
enactments in the mode by which it is pretended that 
posthumous expectations accomplish this beneficial end. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Efficiency of super-human Inducements to produce temporal 
Evil. Their Inefficiency to produce temporal Good,. 

SINCE it has been shown in a former chapter that the 
directive rule, to which the inducements of natural re- 
ligion attach themselves, will infallibly be detrimental to 
human happiness, it follows of course that these inducements, 
if they produce any effect at all, must be efficient to a mis- 
chievous purpose. I now propose to investigate the extent 
of influence which they exercise over mankind, as well as 
the manner of their operation. 

All inducements are expectations either of pleasure or 
pain. The force with which all expectations act upon the 
human bosom varies according as they differ in, 1. Intensity, 
— 2. Duration,— 3. Certainty, — 4. Propinquity. These are 



47 



the four elements of value which constitute and measure 
the comparative strength of all human motives. 

Take for example an expected pleasure. What are the 
motives which govern a man in the investment of money ? 
He prefers that mode in which the profits are largest, most 
certain, and quickest. Present to him a speculation of 
greater hazard or in which he must be kept longer out of 
his money; the value of such an expectation is less, and 
he will not embrace it unless allured by a larger profit. 
Deficiency in certainty and propinquity will thus be com- 
pensated by an increase of intensity and duration. 

To appreciate, therefore, the sway which posthumous 
expectations exercise over the behaviour of mankind, we 
must examine to what degree they comprise these elements 
of value. 

First, they are to the highest degree deficient in propin- 
quity. Every one conceives them as extremely remote ; 
and in the greatest number of instances, such remoteness 
is conformable to experience, as insurance calculations 
testify. 

Secondly, they are also defective in certainty. Posthu- 
mous pleasures and pains are reserved to be awarded in the 
lump, after a series of years. The only possible mode of 
distributing them, at such a period must be by reviewing 
the whole life of the individual — by computing his meri- 
torious and culpable acts and striking a balance between 
them. It is impossible to conceive an expectation more 
deplorably uncertain, than that which such a scale of award 
must generate. In order to strip it of this character of 
doubt, the individual should have kept an exact journal 
of his debtor and creditor account with regard to post- 
obituary dispensations. Whoever does or ever did this ? 
Yet if it is not done, so universal is self-deceit, that every 
man will unquestionably over-estimate his own extent of 
observance. His impression will thus be, that he has a 
balance in hand, and that the performance of any particular 
forbidden act will but slightly lessen the ample remainder 
which awaits him. But suppose it otherwise — let him 
imagine that the balance is against him. There still remains 
the chance of future amendment and compensation, by 
which it may be rendered favourable, and this prospect is 



48 



incalculably more liable to exaggeration than the estimate 
which he forms of his past conduct. 

The prodigious excess to which mankind heap up splendid 
purposes for the coming year, is matter of notoriety and 
even of ridicule. A slight accession of punishment in- 
curred by what the individual may be about to do at the 
moment, will be lost in the contemplation of the mass 
of subsequent reward. Posthumous expectations must, 
therefore, under every supposition, be pre-eminently de- 
fective in the element of certainty. 

To make up for this want of certainty and propinquity, 
the pleasures and pains anticipated in a future life are (it 
will be urged) intense and durable to the utmost extent. 
Imagination, no doubt (our sole guide under unassisted 
natural religion), may magnify and protract them beyond 
all limit, since there is no direct testimony which can check 
her career. But it should be remarked that this excessive 
intensity and permanence can never be otherwise than 
purely imaginary, nor can the most appalling descriptions 
of fancy ever impart to them that steady and equable im- 
pressiveness which characterizes a real scene subjected to 
the senses. As all our ideas of pleasure and pain are 
borrowed from experience, the most vivid anticipations we 
can frame cannot possibly surpass the liveliest sensation. 
Magnify the intensity as you will, this must be its ultimate 
boundary. But you never can stretch it even so high as 
this point : For to do this would be to exalt the conceptions 
of fancy to a level with real and actual experience, so that 
the former shall affect the mind as vividly as the latter — 
which is the sole characteristic of insanity, and the single 
warrant for depriving the unhappy madman of his liberty. 

If, indeed, the expectations actually created in the mind 
corresponded in appalling effect to the descriptions of the 
fancy — and if the defects of certainty and propinquity 
could be so far counteracted as to leave these expectations 
in full possession of the mind — the result must be, absolute 
privation of reason, and an entire sacrifice of all sublunary 
enjoyment. The path of life must lie as it were on the brink 
of a terrific precipice, where it would be impossible to pre- 
serve a sound and distinct vision, and where the imminent 
and inextricable peril of our situation would altogether 



49 



absorb the mind, so as to leave us no opportunity for build- 
ing up any associations of comfort or delight. A man who 
is to have an operation performed in a short space of time, 
cannot dismiss it from his thoughts for an instant ; how 
much less, if he sees, or believes that he sees, a gigantic 
hand, armed with instruments of exquisite torture, and 
menacing his defenceless frame ? 

Such must be the result, if these anticipations did really 
affect the mind in a degree proportional to their imagined 
intensity. They cannot be conceived as tolerably near and 
certain, without driving the believer mad, and without 
rendering it a far more desirable lot for him to have had 
no life at all, than the two lives taken together. Looking 
therefore to the happiness of the present life alone, it appears 
to be merely saved from complete annihilation, by that 
diminished influence of the posthumous prospects which 
distance and uncertainty cannot fail to occasion. It is their 
inefficiency, and not their efficiency, which constitutes the 
safeguard of human comfort. 

But what is the real value of this residuary influence ? 
To determine this question, we must consult the analogy of 
human conduct and observe the effect of large expectations, 
when remote and uncertain, as compared with others of 
small amount, but close at hand and specific. 

How painful are the apprehensions which the approach 
of death creates ! To preserve the mind from being alto- 
gether overpowered by them, and to maintain a cool deport- 
ment at such an instant, is supposed to be an effort of more 
than human firmness. Thus terrible and overwhelming is 
the prospect when merely approximated to the eye. Strip 
it of its propinquity, and all its effect upon the mind imme- 
diately vanishes. Its real terrors, its ultimate certainty, 
remain unimpaired ; but delay the moment, for a few years 
at farthest, and the whole scene is immediately dismissed 
from the thoughts. So confident and neglectful do we be- 
come upon the subject, that it requires more than ordinary 
fore-thought to make those provisions which a due regard 
to the happiness of our survivors would enjoin. 

This is an illustration of peculiar value, because it is a 
case in which mere remoteness practically annuls the most 
dreadful of all expectations, without insinuating even the 

E 



50 



most transient suspicion of ultimate escape. But if distance 
alone will produce so striking a deduction, how much will 
its negative effect be heightened, when coupled with un- 
certainty as to the eventful fulfilment ? It seems apparent 
that these two negative circumstances, taken together, must 
altogether prevent the most painful anticipations from ever 
affecting the mind, unless under very peculiar circumstances, 
which we shall presently notice. 2 

Analogy therefore seems to testify most indisputably, 
that sufferings so remote and so uncertain as those of a 
posthumous life, whatever may be their fancied intensity, 
can scarcely affect the mind at all, in its natural state. 
Such anticipations can only obtain possession of it when 
introduced by other analogous ideas, which have previously 
perverted the usual current of thought, and rendered it fit 
for their reception. Under such circumstances, these new 
allies cannot fail to aggravate most powerfully that tone of 
sentiment to which they owe their origin. Their distance 
and uncertainty will be forgotten, and they will be conceived 
as imminent and inevitable ; while the impression of their 
intensity will be more vehement than ever. Such will be 
the case in the peculiar state of mind to which we here 
allude ; but taking mankind as they usually think and 

2 This important principle, that a small amount of pain, if quick 
and certain in its application, provides a more effectual restraint than 
the most painful death, when delay and the chance of complete escape 
is interposed — seems to be pretty generally recognized at the present 
day. Instruments of torture have consequently become obsolete ; and 
most of the alterations of the legislator have been designed to cure the 
lame foot, and to accelerate the pace of justice. In this, indeed, his 
aim has been not merely to prevent in the most complete manner the 
commission of crime, but also to prevent it at the expense of the 
smallest possible aggregate of suffering. For to denounce penalties of 
shocking severity, but tardy and uncertain in their execution, would be 
to create the greatest sum of artificial pain, with the least possible pre- 
ventive effect. This would be entirely at variance with the genuine 
spirit of legislation, whose end is the extension of human happiness 
by the eradiction of noxious acts. This, however, cannot be the pur- 
pose of the God of natural religion ; who is uniformly conceived (as I 
have before remarked) to delight in human misery, and who is there- 
fore supposed, with perfect consistency, to inflict pain where the pain 
itself cannot produce a particle of benefit, and where the anticipation 
of it can have no effect whatever in repressing vicious conduct. 



51 



judge^ it is altogether contrary to experience that posthum- 
ous expectations should ever be otherwise than nugatory. 

Now i^ according to the general tenor of thought, they 
become thus dormant and inoperative, they cannot possibly 
be employed as restraints upon crime. For when crime 
is committed, the mind is under the sway of a present and 
actuating temptation. It is not only exempt from all such 
associations as might contribute to kindle up the thoughts 
of posthumous terrors; but it is under the strong grasp 
and impulse of a contrary passion, which fills it with ideas 
of a totally opposite character. So completely indeed does 
the temptation absorb the whole soul, that it is difficult in 
many cases to counteract it by the most immediate and 
unequivocal prospect of impending evil. But unless the 
punishment denounced obtrudes itself upon the delinquent 
with a force sufficiently pressing and inflexible to overbear 
the sophistry of temptation, we may be assured that he will 
be insensible to the threats and will commit the crime. 
How much more then, where the apprehended evil is so 
remote and uncertain, and the value of the expectation so 
fluctuating and occasional, as to require a peculiarly favour- 
able tone of thought before the mind can be induced to 
harbour it ? We are surely authorized in deeming an ex- 
pectation so constituted altogether useless as a motive to 
resist any strong desire. 

But what is that preliminary state of mind into which 
posthumous apprehensions find so easy an admittance ? It 
is that in which congenial feelings have been predominant 
— a state of timidity and depression, when gloomy associa- 
tions overspead the whole man, and cast horror and wretched- 
ness round his future prospects. In this condition, the 
fountains of all painful thought are opened, and posthumous 
terrors present an inexhaustible fuud of kindred matter. 
Their distance and their uncertainty are of no consequence, 
for the mensuration of the mental eye is at such a period 
confounded, and it distinguishes not the scene before it. 
Their indeterminate character renders them only the more 
appropriate, for the imagination demands but a plausible 
pretence and outline, to conjure up the amplest detail of 
terrific particulars. In sickness and in nervous despon- 
dency, associations of this kind make their most disastrous* 

E 2 



52 



inroads, and contribute most actively to plunge the mind into 
that state of unassuageable terror, which borders so closely 
on insanity, and frequently terminates in it. And in the 
hour of death, when these apprehensions seem on the brink 
of reality, they obtrude themselves in thick and appalling 
clouds, and aggravate that prostration both of bodily and 
mental faculties, which marks the close of existence. 

Such is the force, and such the mode of operation, be- 
longing to these superhuman expectations, when acting 
singly. And it appears from hence most undeniably, that 
they are almost wholly inefficient on every occasion when it 
might have been possible for them to enlarge the sum of 
temporal happiness — and efficient only in cases where they 
swell the amount of temporal misery. 

For the only benefit which they are calculated to accom- 
plish would be the repression of crimes. To this purpose 
it has been shown that they are wholly inadequate ; for 
during the influence of temptation, the only season in which 
a man commits crime, they find no place in the mind, and 
therefore can interpose no barrier. On the other hand, 
they act with the highest effect at a period when they can- 
not by possibility produce any temporal benefit — that is, at 
the close of life : and the extent of their influence is always 
in an inverse ratio to the demand for it. The greater the 
previous despondency, the wider the space which they 
occupy, and the more powerfully do they contribute to 
heighten those morbid associations which the overmastered 
reason is unable to dispel. 



53 



CHAPTER VII. 

Analysis of the Source from whence the real Efficiency of 
superhuman Enjoyments is almost wholly derived. 

SINCE the inducements which we have been discussing 
are altogether impotent as a barrier to temptation, and 
influential only in peculiar states of mind, how happens it (we 
may be asked) that their dominion in human affairs should be 
apparently so extensive? The cause of this seeming con- 
trariety, which merely arises from a misconception regard- 
ing the actual motives of mankind, I shall now endeavour 
to unfold. 

It has already been shown that the God of natural religion 
is uniformly conceived as delighting in the contemplation of 
his own superiority and in the receipt of human obedience 
— that is, in the debasement, the privations, and the misery 
of mankind. Now each man has a strong temptation to 
elude any payment, 3 in his own person, of these unpleasant 
burthens ; but he has no temptation whatever to avert from 
others the necessity of paying them. On the contrary, a 
powerful interest inclines him to exert himself in strictly 
exacting from every other man the requisite quota. For 
the Deity, pleased with human obedience, will of course be 
pleased with those faithful allies who aid him in obtaining 
it, and will in consideration of this assistance be more in- 
dulgent towards themselves. Each man, therefore, anxious 
for the lighter and more profitable service, will take part 
with God, and will volunteer his efforts to enforce upon all 

3 The Reverend Mr. Colton (in a collection of thoughts entitled 
" Lacon " — Vol. 1. XXV.) says, " Men will wrangle for religion; 
write for it ; fight for it ; die for it; anything but — five for it." The 
same divine also asserts, in the same volume, CLXXXIX. " Where 
true religion has prevented one crime, false religions have afforded a 
pretext for a thousand.'' There cannot be a stronger acknowledgement 
of the enormous balance of temporal evil, which religion, considered on 
the whole, inflicts on mankind. 



54 



other men that line of conduct most agreeable to the divine 
Being. This spontaneous zeal in extorting payment from 
his brother debtors will dispose the creditor to remit or to 
alleviate his own debt. 

But each individual will also be perfectly conscious that 
these temptations are equally active in the bosom of his 
neighbours. They also are upon the watch to recommend 
themselves to God by avenging his insulted name, and ob- 
viating any interruptions to the leisure and satisfaction of 
Omnipotence. They readily bring forward their terrestrial 
reinforcements — abuse, hatred, and injury, against any 
individual who forswears his allegiance to the unseen 
sovereign — eulogy and veneration towards him who renders 
it with more than ordinary strictness. Each man is thus 
placed under the surveillance of the rest. A strong public 
antipathy is pointed against impious conduct ; the decided 
approbation of the popular voice is secured in favour of 
religious acts. The praise or blame of his earthly com- 
panions, will- thus become the real actuating motive to 
religious observances on the part of each individual. By 
an opposite conduct it is not merely the divine denuncia- 
tions that he provokes, but also the hostility of innumerable 
crusaders, who long to expiate their own debts by impla- 
cable warfare against the recusant. 

But although thus in fact determined to a pious behaviour 
by the esteem and censure of his fellows, he will have the 
highest interest in disguising this actual motive, and in 
pretending to be influenced only by genuine veneration for 
the being whom he worships. A religious act, if performed 
from any other than a religious feeling, loses its character 
of exclusive reference to the Deity, and of course ceases to 
be agreeable to him. But if God is no longer satisfied with 
this semi- voluntary performance of the service required, 
neither will the neighbourhood, who take up arms in God's 
favour, be satisfied with it. No individual, therefore, will 
be able to steer clear of the public enmity, unless he not 
only renders these pious acts of homage, but also succeeds 
in convincing others that he is actuated in rendering them 
entirely by the fear of God. The popular sanction, therefore, 
not only enforces the delivery of the homage ; It also com- 
pels the deliverer to carry all the marks of being influenced 



55 

solely by religious inducements, and to pretend that he 
would act precisely in the same manner, whatever might be 
the sentiments of his neighbours. 

The same pretence too will be encouraged by other con- 
siderations. When a man is once compelled by some ex- 
traneous motive to go through the service, it will be his 
interest to claim all that merit in the eyes of God which a 
spontaneous performance of it would have insured. He will, 
therefore, assume all the exterior mien of a voluntary subjec- 
tion to the invisible Being, and will endeavour to deceive 
himself into a belief that this is his genuine motive. In this 
self-imposition he will most commonly succeed, and his ac- 
count of his own conduct, originally insincere, will in time 
be converted into unconscious and unintentional error. 

We can now interpret this seeming contrariety between 
the natural impotence and the alleged apparent dominion, 
of religious inducements. For the real fact is, that they 
enlist in their service the irresistible arm of public opinion 
— and that too in a manner which secures to themselves all 
the credit of swaying mankind, while the actually deter- 
mining motive is by general consent suppressed and kept 
out of view. 

Religion is thus enabled to apply, for the encouragement 
and discouragement of those acts which fall within her 
sphere, the very same engines as morality. Moral conduct 
springs from the mutual wants and interests of mankind. 
It is each man's interest that his neighbour should be virtu- 
ous ; hence each man knows, that the public opinion will 
approve his conduct, if virtuous — reprobate it, if vicious. 
Religious acts, indeed, no man has any motive to approve 
from any benefit conferred by the actual performance of 
them; or, to disapprove the opposite behaviour from any 
injury referable to it. But every man has something to 
gain by being active in enforcing upon others the perform- 
ance of the —inasmuch as this is a co-operation with 
the views of God, which may have the effect of partially 
discharging, or at least of lightening, his own obligations. 
The same encouragements and prohibition, therefore, which 
mankind apply to virtue and to vice, they will be led to 
annex, though from a totally opposite motive, to pious or 
impious behaviour. 



56 



\Vhen the public opinion has once occasioned, as it can- 
not fail to do, a tolerably extensive diffusion of religious 
practices throughout the community, the censures directed 
against any small remainder of nonconformists will be em- 
bittered by the concurrent action of envy. I feel myself 
constrained to be rigidly exact in the renewal of my pious 
offerings : Shall my neighbour, who eludes all share in the 
burthen and will not deduct a moment from his favourite 
pursuits for similar purposes, be treated with the same 
courtesy and respect as myself, who expend so much self- 
denial in order to ensure it ? Is not the labourer worthy of 
his hire ? Being myself a scrupulous renderer of these 
services, it becomes my interest, even with my fellow- 
countrymen, to swell the merit of performing them, and 
'the criminality of neglect, to the highest possible pitch, in 
order to create a proportionate distribution of their esteem. 
The more deeply I can impress this conviction upon man- 
kind, the greater will be their veneration for me. All these 
principles conspire to sharpen my acrimony against my non- 
conforming neighbour, and render me doubly dissatisfied 
with that state of respite and impunity in which Omni- 
potence still permits him to live. In this condition of mind, 
nothing can be more gratifying than the self-assumed task 
of executing the divine wrath upon his predestined head. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Proof of the Inefficiency of super -human Inducements, when 
unassisted by, or at variance with, public Opinion. 

BY the preceding analysis I have attempted to show, that 
the apparent influence of posthumous expectations is 
at the bottom nothing more than a disguised and peculiar 
agency of public opinion ; and also to trace the process by 



57 



which these expectations naturally and infallibly give birth 
to such an inflexion of the popular voice. I now propose to 
confirm this explanation still farther, by citing a few most 
convincing examples of the complete disregard with which 
posthumous anticipations are treated, when the voice of the 
public either opposes, or ceases to enforce, their influence. 

For this purpose it will be absolutely necessary to allege 
instances from revealed religion, because it is only by means 
of revelation that a written, unvarying collection of precepts 
has become promulgated, completely independent of any 
variations which may take place in the national feeling. In 
natural religion it is impossible to discover what is the course 
of action enjoined, except by consulting the reigning tone 
of practice and sentiment; and, therefore, the two must 
necessarily appear harmonious and coincident, since we can 
only infer the former from the latter. Revelation alone 
communicates a known and authoritative code, with which 
the actual conduct of believers may be compared, and the 
points of conformity or separation ascertained. 

1. The first practice which may be cited, as manifesting* 
the impotence of religious precepts, when opposed to public 
opinion, is that of duelling. Nothing can be more notori- 
ously contrary to the divine law; which acts too on this 
occasion with every possible advantage, except the alliance 
of the popular voice. For the practice which religion here 
interdicts is attended with pain and hazard to the person 
committing it, and often with the most ruinous consequences 
to his surviving relatives. If ever super-human inducements 
could ensure obedience when opposed to the popular sanc- 
tion, it would be in a case where all other motives conspire 
to aid them. 

If posthumous enjoyments were the actual reward aimed 
at, and the real motive for religious conduct, this con- 
currence of other inducements would swell their influence 
and render them preponderant. But the truth is, that they 
are not the actual reward sought by the religionist. What 
he desires is, to prove to the satisfaction of other men that 
they are so — to acquire in their eyes the credit of unbounded 
attachment to the Deity. No man will give him credit for 
any such attachment, simply because he declines a dueL 
He knows that the world will ascribe his refusal to coward- 



58 



ice — and thus the concurrence of motives abates and en- 
feebles, instead of confirming, the efficacy of the religious 
precept. He will be more ready to inflict upon himself 
severe bodily sufferings, in compliance with the divine code, 
than to follow its precepts where mankind will give him no 
credit for the sincerity of his obedience. 

Whether, however, the justice of this solution be admitted 
or denied, the instance of duelling must in either case de- 
monstrate the inefficiency of religious inducements, when 
opposed to public opinion. 

2. Fornication is an act directly forbidden by the super- 
human code — but not forbidden by the popular voice. The 
latter, however, does not in this case imperatively demand 
the infringement of the prohibitory precept, as it did in the 
case of the duel ; but merely leaves the divine admonition 
to operate unsupported. To what extent it operates thus 
single-handed, the state of all great cities notoriously 
attests. 

3. Simony, again, is forbidden in the religious code with 
equal strictness, and practised with equal frequency. 

4. But perhaps the case in which the impotence of 
posthumous apprehensions is most glaring and manifest, is 
that of perjury. The person who takes an oath solemnly 
calls down upon himself the largest measure of divine 
vengeance, if he commits a particular act. In this impreca- 
tion it is implied, that he firmly anticipates the infliction of 
these penalties^ if he becomes guilty of this self-condemned 
behaviour. Yet this expectation, which he thus attests and 
promulgates, of posthumous inflictions, has not, when 
stripped of the consentient impulse of public opinion, 
the slenderest hold upon his actions. It cannot make him 
forego any temptation, however small ; as an appeal to unex- 
ceptionable facts will evince. 

Every young man, who is entered at the University of 
Oxford, is obliged to take an oath, that he will observe the 
statutes of the University — a collection of rules for his con- 
duct while he is a student, framed many years ago by" Arch- 
bishop Laud. On this oath, after it has been once taken, 
not a thought is bestowed, even by the most scrupulous 
religionist. Its precepts are altogether unheeded and for- 
gotten — infringed of course on every occasion when the 



59 



observance of them is at all inconvenient. The conduct of 
all the swearers is precisely the same as it would have been 
had the oath never been taken. All the posthumous ven- 
geance which they have imprecated upon themselves — all 
the superhuman inflictions which they firmly anticipate — 
suffice not to produce the most trivial alteration of beha- 
viour. Yet an adherence to some at least among the in- 
junctions thus solemnly sealed, would entail scarcely any 
inconvenience at all. Slight, however, as this inconvenience 
is, the fear of post-obituary penalties is still slighter, and, 
therefore, even the easy means of averting them are alto- 
gether neglected. 

The regulations prescribed by the oath, it will be said, 
are useless, and, therefore, there is no necessity for observ- 
ing them. This may be very true, and may afford an un- 
answerable reason for discontinuing the form altogether : 
but it offers not the shadow of a plea for neglecting its 
dictates, when you have once gone through the ceremonial. 
By virtue of the oath you have imposed upon yourself a 
special obligation to the performance of certain acts ; you 
bind yourself by your apprehension of posthumous visita- 
tions in case of failure, and in order to obviate all reluctance 
on the part of the Almighty, you state your own fervent 
desire to be so treated. Whatever obligatory force was 
comprised in the formula, can never be impaired by your 
discovery that the act enjoined will produce no beneficial 
consequence. 

The uselessness of these regulations is, indeed, the real 
cause why the oath to fulfil them remains universally un- 
observed. But why ? Because the popular voice has no 
longer any interest in enforcing them. But the strength 
of the posthumous fears remains unaltered — and the result 
attests most strikingly their debility and nothingness. 

As another confirmation of this doctrine, let us remark 
the conduct of Jurors, when they administer a law which 
popular opinion, as well as they themselves, condemn as 
sanguinary and impolitic. How undisguised is the manner 
in which they infringe their oaths in order to elude the 
necessity of passing a capital sentence ! In defiance of the 
most irresistible testimony, they find a man guilty of 
stealing under the value of forty shillings, and thus con- 



60 



sign him to the milder and more appropriate punishment. 
Whence comes it that the force of the oath, weighty and 
inflexible up to this point, suddenly dissolves into nothing 
and is shorn of all its credit ? It is because the popular voice 
has ceased to uphold it. Public opinion gave, and public 
opinion has taken away ; and all the sway, which super- 
human expectations possess over human behaviour, is sur- 
reptitiously procured, from their coincidence with this omni- 
potent sanction. 

Though it is popular opinion, or the desire of temporal 
esteem, which forms the actuating stimulus to religious 
observances, yet there are unquestionably instances in which 
such works have been faithfully performed without any 
prospect of consequent credit — nay, perhaps, in spite of 
bitter and predominant enmity. This is perfectly conform- 
able to the general analogy of nature. For when the asso- 
ciations of credit have once linked themselves with any 
course of behaviour, by conversation with a peculiar class, 
by strong personal affection, or any other cause — when 
the feeling of self-respect has become attached to that 
course — an individual will not unfrequently persevere in it, 
though the harvest which he reaps may not actually gratify 
and realize the association. What is the motive which 
impels the friends of mankind to exert themselves in re- 
forming a bad government ? It springs unquestionably 
from the desire of esteem ; first the desire of obtaining it, 
then that of deserving it, whether it is actually attainable 
or not. A similar anxiety, for veneration and influence 
over the sentiments of others, possesses the religionist, 
even when he both anticipates and encounters unqualified 
obloquy ; and the fury of proselytism, which is inseparable 
from his tone of feeling, attests this beyond all dispute. 
Even the solitary penance of the monk springs from the 
very same principle; for the association of credit, when 
once deeply implanted, will govern human conduct, though 
there should be no prospect of realizing the hope which 
originally engendered it. 

In addition to this it should be remarked, that no one 
can question the powerful influence exercised by super- 
human inducements, in some peculiar cases. They some- 
times produce insanity. But these are exceptions to their 



61 



usual impotence, and cannot be admitted as evidence against 
the general conclusion which we have just established. 

As it has been demonstrated that all the efficacy of pos- 
thumous inducements is in reality referable to their alliance 
with public opinion — we at once discover the weakness of 
that plea by which these inducements were asserted to affect 
secret crimes, uncognizable by human laws. He who enter- 
tains confident hopes of perpetrating a misdeed without 
detection, will of course pay no regard to the popular voice. 
Nor will the fear of future pains, stripped of that auxiliary 
which alone renders it formidable, counteract a temptation 
to delinquency, when we see that it cannot prevail upon an 
Oxford student to undergo the smallest inconvenience. 
That the conduct of the former is guilty and injurious — 
the neglect of the latter, innocent — is a distinction which 
does not in the least vitiate the analogy. They are both 
under the special and solitary restraint, whatever be its 
power, which superhuman terrors impose. The one there- 
fore may serve as an unexceptionable measure of the other. 
Nay, if anything, these fears ought to be more potent and 
effective in the case of the Oxford student, than in that of 
the secret criminal — inasmuch as the former has himself 
solicited and sanctioned their infliction, and has originated 
his own claim for their fulfilment. 

But if posthumous apprehensions are inapplicable for the 
coercion of secret crime, it cannot be pretended that they 
are ever necessary — for human enactments will embrace all 
open and definable delinquency. To say that earthly laws 
do not actually perform this, is merely to affirm, that 
governments are defective and ought to be reformed. 

RECAPITULATION. 

The foregoing search into the nature and action of those 
posthumous expectations which unassisted natural religion 
furnishes, has evinced, I trust conclusively : 1. That in the 
absence of any authorized directive rule, the class of actions 
which our best founded inference would suggest as entitling 
the performer to post-obituary reward, is one not merely 
useless, but strikingly detrimental, to mankind in the pre- 
sent life \ while the class conceived as meriting future 



62 



punishment, is one always innocuous, often beneficial, to 
our fellow creatures on earth. 2. That from the character 
and properties of posthumous inducements, they infallibly 
become impotent for the purpose of resisting any tempta- 
tion whatever, and efficient only in the production of need- 
less and unprofitable misery. 3. That the influence exer- 
cised by these inducements is, in most cases, really derived 
from the popular sanction, which they are enabled to bias 
and enlist in their favour. 

If these conclusions are correct, I think it cannot be 
denied, that the influence possessed by natural religion over 
human conduct is, with reference to the present life, in- 
jurious to an extent incalculably greater than it is beneficial. 
For if it ever does produce benefit, this must be owing 
to casual and peculiar associations in the minds of some 
few believers, who form an exception to the larger body. 
It is by no means my design to question the existence of 
some persons thus happily born or endowed. But it 
would be most unsafe and perilous to build our general 
doctrine on a few such instances of rare merit. We can 
only determine the general operation of these inducements, 
or the effect which they produce on the greatest number of 
minds, by analyzing their nature and properties, and by 
contemplating the result which these properties bring about 
in other known cases. This is what has been here attempted, 
and the inquiry has demonstrated that the agency of super- 
human motives must in the larger aggregate of instances, 
produce effects decidedly pernicious to earthly happiness. 

Having thus ascertained that the general influence of un- 
aided natural religion is mischievous, with reference to the 
present life, I shall now proceed to expose the mischief 
more in detail, — to particularize and classify its various 
forms. 



63 



PAET II. 



CATALOGUE OF THE VARIOUS MODES IN WHICH 
NATURAL RELIGION IS MISCHIEVOUS. 



IN enumerating the various modes in which posthumous 
expectations, when unaided by revelation, are produc- 
tive of injury, it will be expedient to classify them under 
two heads : 

1. Mischiefs accruing to an individual, separately con- 
sidered. 

2. Mischiefs not merely self-affecting, but contagious — 
diffusing themselves more or less widely throughout the 
society. 



C4 



CHAPTER I. 

Of the Mischiefs accruing to the Individual. 

MISCHIEF I. — INFLICTING UNPROFITABLE SUFFERING. 

THERE is an interminable variety in the particularities 
which characterize natural religion, amongst different 
nations of the globe. But its genuine spirit and tone is 
throughout the same, yesterday, to-day, and for ever. The 
same motive pervades all its votaries, whether in Hindostan 
or Mexico ; and though it may impel them with greater 
strength and sovereignty in one climate or age, than in 
another, yet there is not the smallest difficulty in tracing 
its identity everywhere. 

You wish to give proof of your attachment to the Deity, 
in the eyes and for the conviction of your fellow-men? 
There is but one species of testimony which will satisfy 
their minds. You must impose upon yourself pain for his 
sake ; and in order to silence all suspicion as to the nature 
of the motive, the pain must be such as not to present the 
remotest prospect of any independent reward. I have 
already attempted to show, that this condition effectually 
excludes, and renders improper for the purpose, all suffering 
endured for the benefit of mankind. Mankind will measure 
your devotion to God by the amount and intensity of the 
pain which you thus gratuitously inflict upon yourself. Ac- 
cordingly we see, that wherever the religious principle has 
been most predominant, and the counteracting hand of 
reason the most feeble, the mass of torture thus voluntarily 
imposed has been the most deplorable, revolting, and un- 
profitable. 

Almost all the modes of pain, both physical and mental, 
seem to have been selected at different places and periods, 
for the purpose of demonstrating the magnitude and since- 
rity of the extra-human affections. 



65 



MISCHIEF II. — IMPOSING USELESS PRIVATIONS. 

It is by the endurance of voluntary pain that a man can 
most invincibly attest his devotion to the Deity. But there 
seems to have been a gradual declension of genuine and 
fervid piety in many countries, or at least its intensity has 
frequently fallen short of this first-rate excellence. In this 
state of comparative relaxation, it suffices only to enforce 
upon its votaries the greater or less immolation of earthly 
pleasures, without being strong enough to produce gratui- 
tous self-torture. Public opinion, less impassioned and less 
exciteable on behalf of the Deity, will not reimburse the suf- 
ferer for the endurance of stripes and mutilation. The 
motive to the latter being thus withdrawn, he contents him- 
self with colder and more moderate testimonies of devotion. 
He claims the public esteem for a voluntary resignation of all 
his earthly pleasures for the sake of God. To impress this 
conviction in the minds of his neighbours, it is necessary that 
his self-denial should be above all imputation of temporal 
recompense — and, therefore, that it should be productive 
of little or no benefit to any beside the Deity. 

Of all the sources of pleasure, physical and mental, few 
can be named which have not thus become, in a greater or 
less degree, objects of renunciation and abhorrence. The 
following acts of self-denial have all, on different occasions 
been placed in the catalogue of religious practices : — 

1. Fasting. 

2. Celibacy. 

3. Abstinence from repose. 

4. Abstinence from cleanliness, personal decoration, and innocent 
comforts. 

5. Abstinence from social enjoyments and mirth. 

6. Abstinence from remedies to disease. 

7. Gratuitous surrender of property, time, and labour. 

8. Surrender of dignity and honours. 

It is unnecessary to remark that none of these privations 
inflict that acute and immediate agony, which results from 
the tortures before enumerated. Some of them, perhaps, 
may upon the long run occasion a larger aggregate of suf- 
fering, from their constant pressure and irritation. But I 
think it most important to notice, that out of the whole 
diminution of human happiness, which natural religion 



06 



originates, these intense self-inflictions constitute a portion 
almost infinitely small, when compared with that spreading 
system of privation and self-denial, which lays whole societies 
under contribution. Like a vicious government, the amount 
of its noxious effects ought to be estimated by the standing 
sacrifices which it extorts from the million, and which, 
though not strikingly oppressive in any individual case/ swell 
into an unfathomable mass when multiplied into the count- 
less host upon whom they are levied — not from the compara- 
tively rare occurrences of concentrated horror and atrocity. 

For public opinion, which merely encourages and pro- 
vokes, by excessive admiration, the voluntary tortures of 
the enthusiast, acts as a compulsory force in extorting self- 
denial and asceticism. How it originally comes to demand 
and enforce these sacrifices, how each individual finds him- 
self interested in exacting them from others, and thence 
obliged to pay them himself — I have attempted to elucidate 
in the foregoing part. The reason why the privations are 
thus required by the popular voice, while the self- inflictions 
are left optional, is because the earliest and most natural 
mode which occurs for conciliating the unseen misanthrope, 
is to consign to his use some gratifying and valuable pos- 
session. A man despoils himself of some piece of property, 
and bestows it to satisfy the wants of his Deity : The Ostiak, 
according to Pallas, takes a quantity of meat and places it 
between the lips of his idol — other nations present drink 
to the gods by throwing it out of the cup upon the ground ; 
that is, by rendering it useless to any human being. It is 
these donatives, or acts of privation, which are originally 
conceived as recommending the performer to divine favour. 
Sacrifices of other sorts are subsequently super-added — 
and abstinences from certain enjoyments, on the plea of 
consecrating them to the Deity. Hence the public opinion 
is at the outset warmly enlisted in exacting self-denying per- 
formances for his benefit — a tone of thought industriously 
cherished by his ministers, as I shall hereafter explain, 4 

4 Self-imposed torture seems to be a subsequent refinement, devised 
by ]ioor men who had no property to make donations, and whose time 
cannot be spared from the task of providing subsistence. In order to 
i^ain a living as well as to make good his claim to the public admira- 
tion, the naked enthusiast must give manifestations of internal feeling 



67 



These considerations will serve to explain how the popular 
opinion has come to compel imperiously a certain measure 
of self-denial and privation, while it abandons self-inflicted 
penance to the kindlings of spontaneous enthusiasm. 

MISCHIEF III.— IMPRESSING UNDEFINED TERRORS. 

In treating generally of the efficacy of these posthumous 
anticipations in the character of sanctions, I have already 
indicated the mode in which they kindle up, on certain 
occasions, the most terrific feelings of which the human 
bosom is susceptible. Their operation is indeed most af- 
flicting, in this point of view; it is always most cruelly 
preponderant upon those unhappy subjects whose title to 
exemption is the greatest — upon those who are already 
broken down by sickness and despondency — upon those 
whose only point of distinction from their neighbours is the 
actual calamity under which they suffer. This unfortunate 
casualty shatters the nervous system, enfeebles the judg- 
ment, and lays open the victim to the incursions of imaginary 
terrors, the extent and reality of which he cannot measure. 
The force, which religion thus casts into the already over- 
poised scale of misery, may be best appreciated by stating, 
that it frequently drives the sufferer into insanity. It aug- 
ments also most fatally the horrors which usually environ 
the prospect of death. 

But I need not again repeat what has been before urged, 
that these anticipations redouble their severity precisely at 
the time when no benefit can possibly result from it. They 
slumber during the period of health and comfort; they 
await the appearance of sorrow and disaster before they can 
obtain a congenial atmosphere. The mass of suffering which 
they thus occasion to almost every one, at different times 
of life, must be very considerable. There is no one who 
has not been occasionally assailed by illness, and by the 

which may strike the beholder with awe. But utter destitution admits 
of no farther self-denial, and can elevate itself above others only by 
insensibility to pain, which appears to place it beyond the ieach of 
human menaces. Hence the incredible sufferings winch have been 
voluntarily endured by monks and fakirs, and the prodigious venera- 
tion which, among ignorant nations, they have seldom failed to inspire 
— a veneration which has doubtless on some occasions caused them to 
be practised even by the rich. 



G8 



despondency which generally attends it, and few, therefore, 
into whose mind posthumous fears do not at times find 
admission, with more or less effect. We are warranted 
then in assuming the aggregate of misery introduced by 
them in this shape, as highly important in amount. That 
almost all persons, in whom religion is deeply and fervently 
implanted, are much harassed by these distressing appre- 
hensions, may be asserted with confidence. But it is seldom 
that we can obtain a testimony at once so striking and 
authentic, of their power and extent, as the following ac- 
count of the Spanish monasteries — written by a philoso- 
phical Spanish clergyman, and contained in a most eloquent 
and interesting work entitled, " Don Leucadio Doblado's 
Letters from Spain " — (London, 1822). 

" The common source of suffering [says this author, 
p. 252] among the Catholic recluses, proceeds from a certain 
degree of religious melancholy, which, combined with such 
complaints as originate in perpetual confinement, affect 
more or less the greater number. The mental disease to 
which I allude, is commonly known by the name of Escru- 
-pidos, and might be called religious anxiety. It is the 
natural state of a mind perpetually dwelling on hopes con- 
nected with an invisible world, and anxiously practising 
means to avoid an unhappy lot in it, which keep the appre- 
hended danger for ever present to the imagination. Conse- 
cration for life at the altar promises, it is true, increased 
happiness in the world to come; but the numerous and 
difficult duties attached to the religious profession, multiply 
the hazards of eternal misery with the chances of failure in 
their performance, and while the plain Christian's offences 
against the moral law are often considered as mere frailties, 
those of the professed votary seldom escape the aggravation 
of sacrilege. The odious diligence of the Catholic moralist 
has raked together an endless catalogue of sins, by thought, 
word } and deed, to every one of which the punishment of 
eternal flames has been assigned. This list, alike horrible 
and disgusting, haunts the imagination of the unfortunate 
devotee, till reduced to a state of perpetual anxiety, she 
can neither think, speak, nor act, without discovering in 
e^ery vital motion a sin which invalidates all her past sacri- 
•iccs, and dooms her painful efforts after Christian perfec- 



69 



tion to end in everlasting misery. Absolution, which adds 
boldness to the resolute and profligate, becomes a fresh 
source of disquietude to a timid and sickly mind. Doubts 
innumerable disturb the unhappy sufferer, not, however, as 
to the power of the priest in granting pardon, but respecting 
her own fulfilment of the conditions, without which to re- 
ceive pardon is sacrilege. These agonizing fears, cherished 
and fed by the small circle of objects to which a nun is con- 
fined, are generally incurable, and usually terminate in an 
untimely death or insanity." 

MISCHIEF IV. — TAXING PLEASURE, BY THE INFUSION OF PRELIMI- 
NARY SCRUPLES, AND SUBSEQUENT REMORSE. 

Among the mischievous effects of religion in the present 
life, it is necessary to advert to those cases where the inno- 
cuous pleasure, which it proscribes, is still, in defiance of 
the mandate, enjoyed. In these circumstances its effect is 
not so great as absolutely to discard the pleasure, but only 
to damp and darken it ; partly by introducing a previous 
doubt or opposition of motives ; partly by obtruding, when 
the vehemence of the conquering passions has subsided, 
a mixture of shame and regret oftentimes insupportably 
bitter. Though religion thus does not entirely preclude our 
enjoyment, yet she compels us to purchase it by unhap- 
piness both antecedent and consequent. 



CHAPTER II. 

Of the Mischiefs which Natural Religion occasions, not 
only to the Believer himself, but also to others through 
his means. 

MISCHIEF I. — CREATING FACTITIOUS ANTIPATHY. 

THE preparation in the human bosom for antipathy towards 
other men is, under all circumstances, most unhappily 
copious and active. The boundless range of human desires^ 
.and the very limited number of objects adapted to satisfy 



70 



them, unavoidably leads a man to consider those with 
whom he is obliged to share such objects, as inconvenient 
rivals who narrow his own extent of enjoyment. Besides, 
human beings are the most powerful instruments of pro- 
duction, and therefore every one becomes anxious to employ 
the services of his fellows in multiplying his own comforts. 
Hence the intense and universal thirst for power; the 
equally prevalent hatred of subjection. Each man therefore 
meets with an obstinate resistance to his own will, and is 
obliged to make an equally constant opposition to that of 
others, and this naturally engenders antipathy towards the 
beings who thus baffle and contravene his wishes. 

Religion becomes a powerful coadjutor to these predis- 
posing causes. Almost all her influence, as we have before 
explained, is derived from the system of rivalry a,nd mutual 
compulsion which she introduces among mankind — each 
man recommending himself to the divine favour, by ex- 
torting from others the sacrifice of their inclinations on 
behalf of Grod. Hence arises an immense extension of the 
principle of antipathy ; a number of factitious instances are 
created and subjected to its control, where it had before no 
application ; and every fresh case of collision swells and ag- 
gravates the ill-will which sprang from the previous sources. 

Those artificial antipathies, which are the peculiar growth 
and fruit of religion, assume a variety of shapes, and ramify 
widely throughout the field of human actions. The prin- 
cipal circumstances on which they fasten are reducible to 
these three : — 

1. Unbelief in the existence of the Deity. 

2. Non-observance of his will. 

3. Mal-observance of his will. 

1. Of all human antipathies, that which the believer in a 
God bears to the unbeliever is the fullest, the most un- 
qualified, and the most universal. All considerations and 
feelings conspire to aggravate it ; scarcely a thought sug- 
gests itself in mitigation of an offence so heinous. First, 
the mere circumstance of dissent, involving a tacit imputa- 
tion of error and incapacity, and evincing that our per- 
suasive power is not rated so highly by others as it is by 
ourselves, invariably begets dislike towards our antagonist. 



71 



By attempting to demonstrate that we are in error, he robs 
us in part of our influence and credit with mankind, from 
which we should have reaped many advantages had owe 
doctrines remained unchallenged. Secondly, the feeling of 
hostility which the believer entertains towards the un- 
believer, on the score of dissent, is incalculably more acute 
than that which the latter generally imbibes against him. 
For an excessive and inconsiderate credulity is indicative of 
a far weaker cast of mind than over-caution and incredulity. 
The former lays its possessor open to unceasing miscalcula- 
tion and deception : the latter is on numerous occasions an 
entire preservative — scarcely ever a cause of suffering or of 
loss. Hence to him who takes the negative side of a 
question, the believer in the affirmative is more the object 
of contempt than of hatred, being regarded as simple, un- 
inquiring, and easily duped or misled. Ridicule is the 
weapon which the unbeliever is most disposed to employ. 
On the other hand, the believer knows perfectly the light 
of inferiority in which his antagonist views him : and to be 
considered by others as silly and contemptible, occasions 
the most poignant and intolerable vexation, since the dif- 
fusion of this sentiment would altogether bereave us of the 
attention and favour of mankind, which is never conferred 
on those who are too feeble to deserve or repay it. Now 
the unbeliever is of course interested, like every other man, 
in spreading his own opinions, and will attempt this 
wherever it is practicable. We need not wonder therefore, 
that the believer manifests the bitterest aversion towards 
one who is endeavouring to impress mankind with the 
meanest estimate of his judgment and penetration. 

All the strong passions of humanity are thus let loose 
against the unbeliever, and coincide perfectly with our 
anxiety to vindicate the divine majesty, by protecting it 
from neglect or insult on the part of any one else. The 
antipathy therefore is in this case swelled to the utmost 
pitch of intensity, nor is there a single consideration which 
can tend to repress or mitigate it. It dictates and furnishes 
a pretence for the gratification of an existing wish : it re- 
quires no troublesome subjugation of propensities, no sur- 
render of actual enjoyments. It does not pledge the 
believer to any painful observances, in order to ensure 



72 



consistency between his sentiments and his conduct. He 
who neglects altogether the more costly modes of pur- 
chasing posthumous promotion, will be so much the more 
interested in magnifying the importance of belief and the 
heinousness of its opposite — because it is the only payment 
which he finds leisure to render. He must therefore repre- 
sent it as so genuine and fervent, as to compensate the 
omission of other less easy services. But while he remains 
thus inactive, the only symptom by which the intensity of 
his belief can be appreciated, is the strength of his hostility 
towards the sceptic. Sentiments and acts of antipathy are 
thus the only proofs of allegiance which he can adduce, to 
place him on a level with the more scrupulous adherent. 
The hatred of the latter is of course ensured towards a 
disbelief, which would fain reduce his pious sacrifices to the 
level of ridiculous self-denial. 

By all these conspiring motives the antipathy against 
atheists is engendered and provoked. Its diffusion too is 
most universal; for it is the single feeling in which the 
votaries of all systems of natural religion coincide, and 
direct their enmity to one common subject. 

2. The antipathy against non-observance is inferior, both 
in extent and in vehemence, to that against unbelief. There 
is not the same array of feeling to stimulate it. First, the 
dissent is by no means so wide and radical as in the former 
case — indeed in many instances the difference of conduct 
may involve scarcely any variance of opinion at all, but is 
referable to the superior presence and urgency of human 
motives, which govern the actions of the believer, in de- 
fiance of his entire conviction that he is thereby forfeiting 
his chance of posthumous happiness. There is too, a 
greater hope of procuring conformity from the non-obser- 
vant believer, than of planting the root of persuasion in the 
atheist. The former recognizes the same sovereignty and 
is enlisted in the same ranks : It seems only requisite to 
sound the word of command more loudly and impressively 
in his ears, in order to enforce the course of action which 
such an acknowledgement appears to entail. And the 
active religionist possesses ample means of thus disturbing 
and awakening a mind which suffers his fundamental 
principles to pass unquestioned. Whereas the atheist is 



73 



deaf to these sonorous and impassioned appeals ; and must 
be won by the cool and measured advances of reason. 
Secondly, the observant believer does not feel himself to be 
an object of contempt with the non-observant. The latter 
is even interested in admiring and eulogizing acts of 
devotion which he will not imitate, since by this encourage- 
ment to the worship of others, he lightens the criminality 
of his own neglect. 

For these and other reasons, the antipathy which religion 
generates against non-observance, is far from being so 
virulent as that against unbelief. Indeed, unbelief neces- 
sarily implies entire non-observance, with scarcely any 
prospect of future amendment. While almost every believer 
is occasionally and to some extent obedient in practice, or 
at least recognizes the propriety of being so at a subsequent 
period. 

Notwithstanding, however, this comparative deduction, 
there still remains a very strong enmity towards non- 
observance, whether in the way of neglect or of trespass. 
Ascetics, reposing their title to the esteem of mankind on a 
voluntary abnegation of particular enjoy ments, naturally 
endeavour to fasten obloquy on all who indulge in them ; 
Of course the ascetics hate him whom their interest leads 
them thus to injure. Besides, there exists in their minds, 
(though on most occasions perhaps unknown to themselves) 
a secret apprehension that their uncomplying neighbour 
may at last prove correct in his calculation, and that all 
their own self-denial may be thrown away. Yet it is a risk 
which they themselves do not choose to brave ; and they, 
therefore, would fain deter any one else from undertaking 
it. Both vexation and envy thus impel them to enforce 
this prohibition in the most effectual manner — that is by 
forestalling the post-obituary sentence, and encompassing 
the path of self-indulgence with all the evils which earthly 
abuse and hostility can devise. Their own mistrust of the 
result is evinced by their reluctance to allow to the sinner 
the unmolested profit or loss of his own temerity. 

3. The third species of antipathy which remains to be 
noticed, is that upon the score of mal-observance — a feeling 
more virulent than the second species, though less so than 
the first. In proportion to the stress we lay upon our mode 



74 



of serving and obeying the Deity, will be the abhorrence 
with which we regard any rival system of worship. The 
ritual enjoined by the latter appears in onr eyes a perversion 
of holy ordinances and institutions — frequently indeed we 
it as the most flagrant impiety. We have ourselves 
always been taught to venerate a certain class of practices, 
j! s strictly agreeable to the Deity: But here is another 
nation who lay claim to his favour by very opposite per- 
formances, and mere natural religion unhappily furnishes us 
with no rational ground for preferring our own. Thus 
deficient in reasons, we naturally endeavour to deter people 
from demanding any, or even from whispering doubts 
which might call for a solution. Dogmatical assumption of 
our own tenets ; the bitterest invective against all who 
question them ; these are the expedients which have been 
universally employed for this purpose. The first secures to 
the doctrine the only support which circumstances admit, 
that is our own authority, derived from the credit we have 
acquired in other cases for judgment and penetration : The 
second terrifies the hearer from manifesting any difficulty 
of assent, by which he might himself incur the suspicion of 
partiality towards the enemies of our worship. 

It thus appears that to him who entertains a strong con- 
viction, for which he has little or no arguments to offer, an 
intense antipathy not only clings as the natural concomitant 
of dissent, but is even necessary as a weapon to intimidate 
unsatisfied hearers, and to stifle an inquiry which it would 
be difficult to ward off in any other manner. Unprepared 
for parley, he quickly resorts to that heavy artillery on 
which alone his reliance can be placed. Besides, the want 
of solid proof generates, in this case also, the same mistrust 
and apprehension of error as we have remarked in the 
former — and hence an equal aversion and hostility towards 
all men, who by adopting a different course of worship, 
excite these doubts in his mind. 

The Pagan, who has from his earliest youth regarded his 
own ritual as exclusively conformable to the' divine will, is 
disposed to imagine that the Hindoo, or any other nation 
whose religious practices are widely different, must be a can- 
didate for the favour of some unseen Being distinct from 
the one whom he himself recognises. Natural religion 



cannot demonstrate to liim that there is no more than one 
God ; and it would be presumptuous in him to assume it 
without proof. It is natural, therefore, that he should 
regard the foreign votary as the servant of a different God. 
But to see his own Deity not only neglected, but forsaken 
in behalf of another, is exasperating in the extreme ; since 
it sets a limit to the influence of the former, and brings 
forward a rival sovereignty, from which a different distri- 
bution of favour and displeasure is to be expected. To 
attest, therefore, the rectitude of his own choice, and the 
superior might of his own Deity, he musters under the 
divine banners all the temporal force which he himself can 
command, for the purpose of crushing the rival worshippers, 
and terminating the influence of the unseen Being on whom 
they rely. 

Mal-observance, like unbelief, includes non-observance ; 
For the votary of a different system of religion will of 
course altogether neglect the ceremonies which I consider 
as the peculiar privilege of mine. But besides this, he 
braves my opinions, and heaps all the terms of moral 
reprobation on those practices which have always appeared 
to me the holiest and most essential : And there is scarcely 
a prospect of persuading him to adopt a conduct agreeable 
to my views, since we entertain so few common principles . 
It is natural, therefore, that I should detest him far more 
warmly than a simply remiss and disobedient fellow- 
believer. 

Such is the antipathy which religion sows in the human 
bosom — and such are the principal shapes and varieties 
which it assumes. It is unhappily but too notorious, how 
fruitful this factitious hostility has proved in every species 
of destructive and sanguinary result. If we merely con- 
template the fierce and merciless persecutions whose enor- 
mity has obtruded them upon the view of the historian, 
the misery thus introduced will appear sufficiently atrocious 
and revolting. But it is not by these extreme barbarities 
that the largest aggregate of suffering is occasioned. Very 
shocking instances of cruelty must be comparatively rare, 
from the desperation and inextinguishable thirst of ven- 
geance which they are sure to provoke ; and they are 
rather to be viewed as indicating the pitch of fury to which 



76 



the antipathy will occasionally stimulate mankind, than as 
aiding our measurement of its evil effects. These are to be 
estimated by computing the degree to which it is current 
and universal — the average force with which it acts at all 
times upon the bulk of the community. The very same 
principle, which at times breaks out into such ferocious 
excesses, is eternally at work, provoking innumerable 
manifestations of lesser hostility and ill-will — and these 
acts, although less injurious when individually considered, 
yet abundantly compensate this defect by their ceaseless 
recurrence and ubiquity. 

It is not easy to estimate the total sum of evil introduced 
by this means — but when we contemplate the universal 
prevalence of religious hatred, and its daily and hourly 
interference with the line of human conduct — creating 
factitious motives for inflicting mutual evil, or withholding 
assistance — we shall be authorised in placing to its account 
no inconsiderable portion of the misery which pervades 
human society. The notorious and extensive influence of 
this antipathy is nowhere more forcibly marked than in 
the arguments concerning toleration. It is only within 
the last century, or a little before, that philosophy has 
ventured to broach the doctrine of toleration — that is, to 
recommend the propriety of tolerating, or enduring, the 
existence of persons entertaining different religious sen- 
timents. Previous to this the understood principle, as well 
as practice, appears to have been, that no one could be 
expected to endure persons dissenting from him on religious 
subjects. Intolerance was then the universally acknow- 
ledged credential of sincerity, and, indeed, still remains so, 
wherever the preponderance of any one pious fraternity is 
so complete, as to render this non-endurance of dissenters 
at all practicable. It is chiefly the growing equilibrium 
between different sects which has engendered this mutual 
suspension of arms, and mitigated the fury of religious 
antipathy. 

.MISCHIEF II. — PERVEBTING THE POPULAR OPINION — CORRUPTING 
MORAL SENTIMENT — SANCTIFYING ANTIPATHY — PRODUCING AVER- 
SION TO IMPROVEMENT. 

To ensure on the part of every individual a preference 



77 



of actions favourable to the happiness of the community, 
it is essentially requisite that that community siould them- 
selves be able to recognise what is conducive to their 
happiness — that they should manifest a judgment suffi- 
ciently precise and untainted to separate virtue from vice. 
The reason why the popular sanction is generally mentioned 
as an encouragement to good and a restraint upon bad 
conduct, is, because the major part of the society are 
supposed in most cases to know what benefits and what 
injures them — and that they are disposed to love and recom- 
pense the former behaviour, to hate and punish the latter. 
Now the efficacy of the public hate, considered as a restraint 
upon mis-deeds, depends upon its being constantly and 
exclusively allied with the real injury of the public — upon 
its being uniformly called forth whenever their happiness 
is endangered, and never upon any mistaken or imaginary 
alarms. Whatever, therefore, tends to make men hate 
that which does not actually hurt them, contributes to 
distort or disarm public opinion, in its capacity of a 
restraint upon injurious acts — for the public sentiment is 
only the love or hatred of all or most of the individuals in 
the society. 

Now religion has been shown to create a number of 
factitious antipathies — that is, to make men hate a number 
of practices which they would not have hated had their 
views been confined simply to the present life. But if men 
would not naturally have hated these practices, this is a 
proof that they are not actually hurtful. Religion, there- 
fore, attaches the hatred of mankind to actions not really 
injurious to them, and thus seduces it from its only legiti- 
mate and valuable function, that of deterring individuals 
from injurious conduct. 

By this distortion from its true purpose, the efficacy of the 
popular censure is also weakened on those occasions when it 
is most beneficially and indispensably called for, as a guardian 
of human happiness. It is dissipated over an unnecessary 
extent of defensible ground, and thus becomes less efficient 
at every particular point ; and it is deprived of that unity 
of design, and that reference to a distinct and assignable 
end, which marks all provisions exclusively destined for 
securing the public happiness. The different actions, to 



78 



which the public odium is attached, appear entirely uncon- 
nected and heterogeneous in their tendencies, and its appli- 
cation is thus involved in darkness and confusion. 

Besides, hatred from one man towards another, is a feeling 
decidedly noxious, and no friend of humanity could suffer 
a single drop of it to exist, were it not required to prevent 
a greater evil — to obviate a still larger destruction of happi- 
ness. Unless sanctified by this warrant, the affection of 
hatred becomes nothing better than unredeemed malignity, 
It is by exciting and keeping alive this malignity, that reli- 
gion enforces her causeless prohibitions ; and, therefore her 
influence is injurious, not only by obstructing an innocuous 
gratification, but by all the malice and animosity which she 
plants in the human bosom in order to effect her purpose. 
A pernicious restriction is thus completed by still more per- 
nicious means. 

Though this is the most mischievous species of corrup- 
tion with which the popular opinion can be infected, it is 
not, however, the only one. Its encouragements, as well as 
its restraints, may be seduced and misapplied. To promote 
its true aim, the public favour and esteem ought to be as 
inseparably and exclusively annexed to beneficial practices, 
as its hatred to acts of a contrary tendency. But religion 
never fails to conciliate a very material share of credit for 
practices, which, however meritorious with reference to a 
posthumous state, cannot be affirmed to produce any tem- 
poral advantage, and therefore would never have been 
esteemed had our views been confined to the present life. 
She thus draws off a portion of the popular favour, from its 
legitimate task of encouraging acts conducive to human 
felicity : She cheats the public into the offer of a reward for 
conduct always useless, sometimes injurious — and embezzles 
part of the fund consecrated to the national service^ for 
bribery on the personal behalf of the monarch. 

The popular sanction, thus misapplied both in its en- 
couraging and restrictive branches, may become the uncon- 
scious instrument of evil to almost any extent. It may 
criminate and interdict any number of innocent enjoyments, 
like the eating of pork — or any acts however extensively 
useful, like loans of money upon interest. And it may heap 
profuse veneration on monastic stripes and self-denial, or 



79 



ratify the cruelty which persecution inflicts upon the un- 
happy dissenter. 

But the public never praise an action without thinking it 
to deserve praise,, nor blame one without believing it to 
deserve blame. This misdirection, therefore, of praise and 
blame naturally and necessarily introduces a false appre- 
hension of what is praiseworthy and blameworthy. The 
practices thus erroneously imagined to merit their esteem 
become enrolled in the catalogue of virtues — those falsely 
conceived to merit their censure are represented as vices. 
Thus the terms of moral approbation and blame are deceit- 
fully transferred to actions which a regard to the public 
happiness would not legitimate, and the science of morality 
is cast into utter darkness and embarrassment, by the re- 
moval of that light which an unity of standard could alone 
have imparted. 

This misapplication of terms is farther confirmed by the 
language used in addressing or characterizing the Deity. 
We have already shown that the Almighty, though always 
actually conceived by natural religion as a capricious despot, 
is yet never described except in epithets of the most super- 
lative and unmingled praise. The practices, which he is 
supposed to approve or delight in, will of course be charac- 
terized in language the same as that which is applied to 
himself. What he loves, will be laudable or virtuous— 
what he dislikes, blameable or vicious. To sacrifice the 
life of a human being becomes thus entitled to the name of 
a good action, when enjoined (or supposed to be enjoined) 
by the Being whom every one calls all-beneficent and per- 
fect. It matters not what the action is — so it be agreeable 
to the just and good Creator, it must itself be necessarily 
just and good. 

By these two concurrent causes, the science of morality 
has been enveloped in a cloud of perplexity and confusion. 
Philosophers profess, by means of this science, to interpret 
and to reconcile the various applications of approving and 
disapproving terms. But the practices on which the same 
epithet of approbation is bestowed, appear so incurably 
opposite, that it has been found impossible to reduce them 
to one common principle, or to discover any constituent 
quality which universally attracts, either praise or blame. 



80 



The intellect lias been completely bewildered and baffled in 
all attempts to explain the foundation of morality, or to 
find any unerring linger-post amidst a variety of diverging 
paths. 

Hence the same misdirection of eulogy and censure, by 
which mankind have been deluded into favouring those who 
did them harm, and persecuting their benefactors, has given 
birth besides to another unhappy effect. The science of 
morality has become so doubtful and embarrassed, so des- 
titute of all centre and foundation, as to lose all authority, 
and to be incapable either of rectifying current mistakes, 
or guarding against future ones. By the depravation of 
this all-important science, therefore, these misdirections not 
only secure themselves from all trial or scrutiny, but also 
ensure a similar success and immunity to any future pre- 
judices. For the moralist, comparing the various actions 
to which praise or blame is awarded, and finding not the 
smallest analogy either in their nature or tendency, some 
being beneficial, others hurtful, others indifferent — is unable 
to range them under any common exponent, and accordingly 
sets them down in a catalogue one after another, as distinct 
and heterogeneous dictates of a certain blind and unaccount- 
able impulse, which he terms a moral instinct or conscience. 
In cases where all men agree in approving or disapproving 
the same practice, he appeals to this universal consent as 
an invincible testimony to the justice of the feeling, and 
extols the uniformity of nature's voice : in cases where 
they differ, he compliments the particular sect or public, 
for whom he writes, as having singly adhered to the path 
of right and the dictates of nature, and bastardizes the rest 
of mankind as an outcast and misguided race. 

The science of morality having been thus degraded into 
a mere catalogue of the reigning sentiments, without any 
trial or warrant, not only do the prejudices of to-day meet 
with adoption and licence, but a sanctuary is also provided 
for those of to-morrow. Morality cannot, in this state, 
either instruct or amend mankind, nor is it capable of pro- 
gress or improvement, because the standard, by which 
alone its advance can be measured, has been cast away. 
To this stagnant and useless condition it has been reduced 
by the excessive misapplications of praise and blame, which 



81 



religion has to so large an extent occasioned, though other 
causes have doubtless contributed to the same end. 

We should not omit to remark, that as all means of dis- 
tinguishing right from wrong disapprobation is obliterated, 
every one naturally endeavours to license and sanctify his 
own private antipathies, by placing them to the account of 
religion. By an artful transfer of terms, he attempts to slip 
his personal dislike into the moral code, and to found 
thereon the character of being zealously concerned for the 
honour of God and the interests of virtue. If he can 
succeed in procuring a few allies, his antipathy becomes 
gradually diffused and legalized, and is worshipped as a 
dictate of the moral sense. But in order to obtain these 
partisans, he is compelled to offer some service in return ; 
and for this purpose he naturally stands forth as the 
champion of their antipathies, in the same manner as they 
second his. By this compromise, therefore, the whole band 
are leagued to endorse and accredit each other's enmities, 
and to vilify the actions which they dislike, as infringe- 
ments of religion and of the law of nature." The less hurtful 
the action — the less real necessity can be alleged for the 
dislike — the more loudly will they be obliged to appeal to 
religion and the moral instinct, as their only chance of 
shelter from the charge of absurd peculiarity. Those anti- 
pathies, therefore, which are the least defensible on the 
score of public utility, are the most commonly put forward 
to be stamped and sanctified by religion, and to pass current 
under the denomination of laws of nature. 

One consequence and manifestation of this principle is so 
important as to deserve particular notice. An aversion 
towards improvement is its decided effect — and where such 
a feeling previously existed, it is both aggravated in force, 
and hardened against all question and scrutiny. 

The sequences and concatenation of phenomena, as 
presented to our senses, and subsequently compared and 
classified, form what is called the course of nature, supposed 
to be established by the Deity. All fresh facts, all acquisi- 
tion and application of knowledge, introduce a change in 
these sequences, and therefore break in upon the laws of 
nature. 

Now the laws of nature, conceived as they are to be the 

G 



82 



arrangements of the Deity, acquire a character of supreme 
holiness, and to infringe them is supposed to be an impious 
defeat and counteraction of the divine will. The same 
being, indeed, who originally set them on foot, may suspend 
or over-rule them, if he will ; but any interference for this 
purpose, on the part of man, is presumptuous and un- 
warrantable in the highest degree. To counteract the 
course of nature, and to oppose a bar to the designs of 
the Deity, are in fact synonymous phrases, and therefore 
all alterations in the course of nature are so many obstacles, 
daringly presented by feeble man against the designs of 
his creator. 

Agreeably to this, the epithet unnatural indicates perhaps 
the most severe, aggravated, and relentless odium ever 
harboured in the human bosom. It is perfectly self-justify- 
ing, nor does the accused dare to call for any proof or 
testimony in support of the charge : it is also quite irre- 
sistible, and no plea can be heard in mitigation of its effect. 

Now all successive discoveries and their application to 
fact, constitute so many alterations of the laws of nature. 
But no discovery is ever applied except for the purpose of 
augmenting human comfort — for there is no other motive to 
employ it. Consequently all augmentation of human hap- 
piness, by an improved knowlege of facts, is unnatural, or 
contrary to the laws of nature : that is, it is an impious 
counteraction of the designs of God. It naturally therefore 
becomes the object of the bitterest religious antipathy, and 
all practical improvement is thus pre- extinguished and 
stifled in the birth, by the sweeping epithet of unnatural. 

It is vain to urge, that the fact falsifies these conclusions 
— that the promotion of human comfort, by means of an 
augmented knowledge of the passing phenomena, is never 
proscribed and regarded as opposite to the divine will, 
except in a few particular cases ; while in the greater 
number of instances no one ever introduces the supposition. 
It is sufficient for my purpose to show that this effect is 
produced in a certain number of cases ; more in somt 
climates and ages, fewer in others — that practices con- 
ducive to human happiness have been branded and repelled 
simply on the ground of being unnatural. For this is 
satisfactory evidence that natural religion has a tendency to 



83 



engender an hostility to improvement; and that if the 
tendency does not manifest and realize itself in every par-* 
ticular instance, this is because other causes operate in 
counteraction of it. 

The increase of light and wisdom throughout Europe 
has, indeed, happily tended to dispel this error, and to 
restrict the application of such an interdict against im- 
provement to a comparatively small number of cases, wherein 
either peculiar prejudices, or injury to some powerful sinister 
interest, act with more than usual effect upon the antipathies 
of mankind. But still the interdict exists ; and it is only 
the dissentient voice of public opinion which suspends its 
execution. For whenever sentence is passed against any 
particular mode of amelioration, it is always by virtue of 
the standing enactment against all — that is by accusations 
of contrariety to the laws of nature and the designs of the 
Deity ; which would, if pursued consistently, prohibit all 
improvement whatever. And the only scheme for parrying 
such an accusation is borrowed from this inconsistency, and 
general non- execution of the enactment: "You do not 
object to an alteration of the laws of nature for purposes of 
human happiness, in such and such cases — Why awaken 
your sleeping restriction here, and attach so much crimi- 
nality to this particular plan, simply on the score of being 
unnatural or an innovation upon the laws of Nature ?*? 

There has been a period when religion was arrayed to 
silence the discoveries of Galileo, and to prohibit physical 
and medicinal improvements, such as the emetic. If 
such sentences are no longer hazarded now, it is not from 
any change in the spirit and tendency of the law, but from 
its progressive weakness and loss of dominion, the natural 
result of the diffusion of knowledge. 

MISCHIEF III. — DISQUALIFYING THE INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES FOR 
PURPOSES USEFUL IN THIS LIFE. 

There are several modes in which religion tends to unfit 
the mental faculties for the promotion of the mere temporal 
happiness of mankind. Considered with reference to a 
posthumous existence, indeed, which divines justly regard 
as far more important than the present, her influence may 
be highly beneficial in qualifying us for the lot there to be 

g 2 



84 



awarded. But these magnificent promises cannot be realized 
without a transient loss on this preparatory state — and 
amongst all the modes in which this loss is incurred, few 
arc more serious than the disqualification of our intellects. 

Section I. — Disjoining Belief from Experience, 

It has been remarked in the early part of this volume, 
that the primary and unsolicited provision of nature consists 
for the most part of pains and wants — that the means of 
soothing the one and satisfying the other, were the gradual 
and toilsome discovery of man, even now far from being 
perfected — that consequently all pleasure, and exemption 
from suffering, was the fruit of knowledge. If a man does 
not know the way to avoid or to remedy an impending 
pain, he will be compelled to suffer it : if he does not know 
the way to procure any particular pleasure, the pleasure 
will not seek him of its own accord, and he will, therefore, 
be obliged to forego it. 

But all our knowledge with regard to pleasure and pain 
is derived from experience. To know the way of procuring 
the former and escaping the latter, some one must have 
made trial. Knowledge can only be instrumental for these 
purposes, when it is the statement and summary of the 
trials which have thus been made. 

Now knowledge consists in the belief of certain facts : 
all useful knowledge, therefore (that is, all which can be in- 
strumental in multiplying the enjoyments and diminishing 
the sufferings of this life), consists in believing facts con- 
formable to experience — in believing the modes of producing 
pleasure and avoiding pain to be, in each particular case, 
such as actual trial indicates . It is on the conformity of 
belief with experience, therefore, that the attainment of 
pleasure and the prevention of misery, in every case with- 
out exception, is founded. 

Such is the inestimable value, indeed, the essential and 
overwhelming necessity, of belief conformable to experi- 
ence. Belief unconformable to experience is not applicable, 
in any degree, to the removal of unhappiness, or the pro- 
duction of enjoyment ; and consequently is altogether use- 
less. The whole utility of belief, therefore, consists in this 
conformity. 



85 



To maintain and extend the alliance between belief and 
experience will thus appear to be incalculably the most im- 
portant object of human endeavour. Whatever promotes 
such an attempt, must be considered as a most valuable 
instrument for the augmentation of happiness ; since this is 
the only means by which it can be augmented. And con- 
versely, whatever tends to disjoin belief from experience, 
must be regarded as crippling, to a greater or less extent, 
the sole engine by which our preservation even from inces- 
sant suffering is ensured, and tending to disqualify our 
mental faculties for purposes of temporal happiness. 

Such is the injurious effect (with reference to the present 
life) of disjoining the two — or of making us believe any- 
thing uncertified by experience. Whoever acts upon such 
an uncertified persuasion, or induces any one else to act 
upon it, can never attain any benefit by it, and may occa- 
sion very serious evil. Indeed all human errors are only 
so many manifestations of this unsanctioned belief. 

As all real facts, or instances of belief thus certified, 
mutually hang together and tend to support each other, so 
that he who acquires any one is thereby assisted and placed 
in a better condition for the acquisition of more — in the 
same manner all errors, or uncertificated persuasions, though 
heterogeneous and discordant one with another, yet con- 
spire all to one common end, that of deranging the con- 
formity of belief to experience. Each separate instance 
of this want of conformity engenders others, and renders 
the mind less likely to keep close to a conformable belief 
upon other occasions. Every particular instance, therefore, 
besides the miscalculations to which it may directly and 
of itself give birth, is injurious by the general habit of 
derangement which it creates in the mental system — by 
preparing the intellect to be at other periods the recipient 
of useless or uncertified belief. You cannot impress upon 
the mind one such persuasion, without rendering it liable 
to the incursions of others to any extent. 

He, for example, who reposes faith in the accounts of Lil- 
liput and Mrobdignag, must have a mind so constituted, as 
to believe on many other occasions without the warrant of 
experience We should mark our sense of this by attaching 
less credit to his opinions, and describing him under appro- 



8(3 



priate epithets of inferiority. We should readily admit 
that such a peculiarity of mind comparatively incapacitated 
him from directing either his own conduct or ours to any 
salutary purpose. If this disposition to uncertified belief 
spreads still farther in his mind, and manifests itself in a 
considerable number of cases, we then term it insanity. 
His belief then becomes not only useless for our guidance, 
but imminently dangerous and threatening to our security. 
Accordingly we do not permit it to direct even his own 
actions, but immediately subject his body to a foreign 
superintendence. 

Such are the unhappy consequences produced by a devia- 
tion of belief from experience. This disjunction, when 
frequent and embracing subjects of importance, constitutes 
insanity, and renders an individual utterly incapable of pro- 
viding for his own happiness, as well as a destructive foe to 
that of his fellow-creatures : When rare and confined to 
trifling subjects, it causes a proportionably slighter depra- 
vation of his mental faculties, but never fails to impair in 
a greater or less degree, his competency of judging for the 
welfare of himself and of others. It is most important to 
keep in mind, that madness with all its dreadful conse- 
quences is only a total divorce of belief from experience — 
that all intellectual weakness is the fruit of this divorce to 
a lesser extent — and that every separate instance in which 
such a disjunction is effected, by whatever cause it may be, 
lays the mind open to the attacks of other disjoining causes ; 
thus creating a disease which is sure to spread. 

Having thus exposed the enormous evils which result 
from the disjunction of belief from experience, I proceed 
to show the modes in which natural religion inevitably 
causes such a disjunction. 

1. The fundamental tenet of natural religion is, the per- 
suasion that there exists a Being, unseen, unheard, un- 
touched, untasted, and unsmelt — his place of residence 
unknown — his shape and dimensions unknown — his ori- 
ginal beginning undiscovered. This is what the negative 
terms invisible, omnipresent, infinite, and eternal, imply. 

Now the very description of this Being obviously shows, 
that no one can ever have had any experience of his exist- 
once. To have experience of anything external to ourselves, 



87 



supposes certain concomitant circumstances — the exercise 
of one of our senses — a definite time and place of exis- 
tence — a particular size and figure. Without these conco- 
mitants, experience cannot take place, and the sublime con- 
ception of infinite attributes at once negatives them all. 
You cannot state that God is in a particular place, because 
that would imply that he was not in any other place — since 
the only intent of particularization is to exclude everything 
except that which is specified. Our persuasion, therefore, 
of God cannot be founded upon experience. 

The very basis, therefore, of natural religion, is an article 
of extra-experimental belief, or of belief altogether uncon- 
formable to experience. It has a tendency, thus in the 
very outset, to introduce that mental depravation which we 
have demonstrated to be the inevitable result of this species 
of belief. I do not here intend to assert that the doctrine in 
question is untrue, but merely to point out the peculiarity of 
the evidence on which it rests — that it is a persuasion un- 
certified by experience, and, therefore, vitiating the intel- 
lect so far as regards mere temporal interests. Whether 
true or untrue, in either case, the very nature of the belief 
occasions it to produce the same disqualifying effect upon 
the mental faculties. 

2. Our belief with regard to the original creative power 
of God, and the design with which it was exerted, is alike 
uncertified by experience. No man has ever had experience 
of the commencement of things : and, therefore, whatever 
account we admit as to their origin, our belief must be extra- 
experimental. If the interests of the present life require 
that our persuasion should never deviate from experience, 
they also require that we should not attempt to account 
for the original commencement of things — because it is 
obvious that experience must be entirely silent upon that 
subject. 

The belief in design, as dictating the exertion of this 
creative power, is alike extra-experimental. Experience 
exhibits to us design only in man and animals ; and in them, 
its effects are confined to the displacement of matter, and 
the admotion or amotion of its particles to and from each 
other. This is all which experience shows us to be pro- 
duced by design ; and we cannot believe that it produces 



88 



any other effects, without falling into the disease of extra- 
exp r i mental persuasion. 

Besides, to say that the human body, or the universe, 
was brought into the order which we now see, by design — 
this supposes a previous state in which the parts of the 
human body were lying about in a heap — fibres in one place, 
brain in another, membranes and muscles in a third — with- 
out the least tendency to combine together and form a whole. 
Design presupposes the existence of substances endued 
with certain properties, and can only be pretended to account 
for their transition, from one relative situation called con- 
fusion, to another called order. But has anyone ever had 
experience of this preliminary chaos ? 

Again, an omnipotent will is something which is by its 
very nature placed beyond the reach of experience. Were 
we permitted indeed to introduce the supposition of omni- 
potence, this would materially facilitate the explanation of 
all other difficult points, as well as that of the original of 
things. Anything will solve the difficulty, provided you 
are allowed to render it omnipotent. Instead of supposing 
a will which can perform everything, you may suppose fire 
or water which can perform everything, and all results 
are equally well explained. Why was Epicurus forced into 
such absurdities in attempting to explain all phenomena by 
the doctrine of atoms, or Thales by that of water ? From 
the difficulty of reconciling these phenomena with attorns or 
water of limited power and properties. Had they dared 
to discard openly these limitations, the difficulty of the task 
would have vanished. When the fairy with her all-power- 
ful wand has once been introduced, it is as easy to explain 
the sudden rise of a palace as of a cottage. 

These considerations, we think, clearly demonstrate that 
all belief in design, as having been originally instrumental 
in forming the world, is completely extra- experimental. 

3. Nor less so is the belief that the Deity will in a pos- 
thumous existence distribute to us certain pleasures and 
pains. It is plain that whatever be the evidence on which 
this persuasion is built, experience teaches us nothing about 
it. 

4. Another case of extra-experimental conviction im- 
planted by religion is, the belief of God's agency in the 



89 



present life. As it is in this case that the mischiefs flowing 
from such uncertified belief assume the most determinate 
and palpable shape, we shall examine it at greater length 
than the rest. 

You believe that the Deity interferes occasionally to 
modify the train of events in the present life. Your belief 
is avowedly unconformable to experience, for the very 
essence of the divine interposition is to be extrinsic and 
irreconcileable to the course of nature. But mark the 
farther consequences : You dethrone and cancel the 
authority of experience in every instance whatever; and 
you thus place yourself out of condition to prove any one 
fact, or to disprove any other. 

What steps do you take to prove that a man has com- 
mitted murder ? You produce a witness who saw him level 
his pistol at the head of the deceased, heard the report, and 
beheld the man drop. But this testimony drives all its per- 
suasive force from the warrant and countersign of experience. 
Without this it is perfectly useless. Unless I know by pre- 
vious experience that eye-witnesses most commonly speak 
the truth — that a pistol ball takes the direction in which 
it is levelled and not the opposite — I should never be con- 
vinced, by the attestation of these particular facts, of that 
ulterior circumstance which you wish me to infer. To 
complete the proof, two things are requisite ; the previous 
lessons of experience, and the applicability of these lessons 
to the present case. But no such application can take place 
unless the course of nature remains the same as it was 
before. A gratuitous assumption must therefore be made ; 
that the course of nature continues inviolate and uniform. 
But to assume this in every particular case, is to assume 
the universal inviolability of the laws of nature. 

Whoever therefore believes these laws to be violable at 
the will of an incomprehensible Being, completely debars 
himself from the application of all previous experience to 
the existing fact. If they are violable at all, why may 
they not have been violated in the case before us ? No 
imaginable reason can be assigned for this — because in 
order to constitute a reason — in order to make a complete 
proof — you must presuppose that uniformity of the course 
of nature which your reason is intended to vindicate. 



90 



Whether you assume her laws to be violable or inviolable, 
you must adhere to the same assumption throughout. If 
you say that they are inviolable, you cannot maintain them 
to bo infringed in any particular case — if you hold that 
they are violable, you cannot assume them to be perma- 
nent and uniform in any one case. 

If therefore you believe the agency of an incomprehen- 
sible Being in the affairs of this life, your belief is such as 
would, were it pursued consistently, exclude you from all 
application of past experience to the future — and therefore 
incapacitate you from contriving any defence against coming 
pains, or any modes of procuring pleasures. 

Again, this belief also precludes you from applying the 
process of refutation, and thus from detecting any falsehood 
whatever. For no assertion can ever be refuted except by 
offering proof of some other assertion, and then appealing 
to experience for a certificate of the incompatibility of the 
two. A man clears himself from an alleged crime by 
proving an alibi. The whole virtue of this defence rests 
upon the presumption, that experience attests the impos- 
sibility of performing a certain act at more than a certain 
distance. If it is suggested that the laws of nature are 
violable — if it is questioned whether the previous lessons of 
experience are applicable to this particular case — then, inas- 
much as no evidence of their applicability can be adduced, 
the process of disproof is at once nullified. The inviola- 
bility of the course of nature must be gratuitously assumed 
as the root from which all incompatibility between any two 
assertions, and therefore all proof of the falsehood of either, 
is derived. 

Hence the belief of an unseen agent, infringing at plea- 
sure the laws of nature, appears to be pregnant with the 
most destructive consequences. It discredits and renders 
inadmissible the lessons of experience : It vitiates irrecover- 
ably the processes both of proof and refutation, thereby 
making truth incapable of being established, and falsehood 
incapable of being detected : It withdraws from us the 
power of distinguishing the true methods of procuring 
enjoyment or avoiding pain, from the false ones 5 and 
plunges us into the naked, inexperience and helpless condi- 
tion of a new-born child — thereby qualifying us indeed for 



91 



the kingdom of heaven, but leaving ns wholly defenceless 
against the wants and sufferings of earth. 

I do not indeed affirm that this extra- experimental belief 
has actually produced — what if adhered to with consistency, 
it ought to produce — an entire mistrust of all experience. 
The necessity for a general reliance on the stability of 
nature has been too powerful to be resisted — and therefore 
mankind have shuffled off the dangerous consequences by 
their usual resort of inconsistency — sometimes assuming 
the lessons of experience as supreme and incontestable, 
sometimes disregarding them as arbitrary and variable at 
the will of an incomprehensible Being. But though this 
extra-experimental belief has been thus only partially enter- 
tained and confined to a corner of the mind, its pernicious 
effects have still been very great — and I shall proceed to 
specify an instance of the manner in which it tends to dis- 
able the intellect, and to expunge all the criteria of truth 
and falsehood. 

It is not many years since witchcraft was recognized and 
prohibited as an actual offence, and persons tried and con- 
demned for committing it. To attempt a defence against 
such an accusation was obviously impracticable. The essence 
of the crime consisted in an alliance with demons, who 
could at pleasure interrupt the course of nature ; and there- 
fore it availed nothing though the defendant could prove an 
unexceptionable alibi. He might, by the assistance of his 
hyperphysical ally, have ridden a hundred miles through 
the air in as many seconds. Nor was it possible to deter- 
mine what facts were or were not inconsistent with com- 
mission of the crime ; or consequently, to adduce anything 
like exculpatory testimony. The defendant was thus laid 
completely at the mercy of the favour or aversion of judges 
unguided by any rational inference, as may be seen by con- 
sulting any of the old trials for this imaginary offence. 

All the unhappy victims who have been condemned for 
witchcraft may be considered as one instance of the wretched 
effects of cxtr"- • j wrimenial belief; as sacrifices occasioned 
by that thorough depravation of the intellect, and erasure 
of the distinction between truth and falsehood, which it is 
the nature of this belief to effect whenever it reigns within 
the mind. The number of men thus condemned publicly 



92 



lias been far from inconsiderable — not to mention those 
who have undergone private persecution and suspicion from 
their neighbourhood ; a body probably more numerous, 
though less exposed to notice. 

As this persuasion utterly disqualifies mankind for the 
task of filtering truth from falsehood, so the multitude of 
fictitious tales for which it has obtained credence and cur- 
rency in the world, exceeds all computation. To him who 
believes in the intervention of incomprehensible and un- 
limited Beings, no story can appear incredible. The most 
astonishing narratives are exempted from cross-examination, 
and readily digested under the title of miracles or prodigies. 
Of these miracles, every nation on the face of the earth has 
on record, and believes thousands. And as each nation dis- 
believes all except its own, each, though it believes a great 
many, yet disbelieves more. The most enthusiastic believer 
in miracles, therefore, cannot deny that an enormous excess 
of false ones have obtained credence amongst the larger 
portion of mankind. The root of all these fictions, by which 
the human intellect has thus been cheated and overrun, is 
the extra-experimental belief of the earthly interference of 
God ; and the immense evil arising from such a deception 
is another of its pernicious results. 

Nor should we omit, in reckoning up these results, the 
universal prevalence of the expectations arising out of this 
belief in particular interpositions of the Deity. Entertaining 
this conviction, a man is of course led to frame some con- 
jecture on what occasions the unseen Being will be likely 
to interpose. He naturally selects those, on which his 
anticipations are most at fault, and when he is most ignorant 
what real event is to be expected. In this state the experi- 
mental belief ceases to suggest any predictions, and the 
extra- experimental of course steps into the vacant chair 
and assumes the rod of prophecy. Hence, instead of 
adopting the most skilful expedients which a comparison of 
the known phenomena would suggest, his behaviour will be 
determined either by some accidental and incomprehensible 
peculiarity of circumstance, or by certain deceitful and 
irrelevant conceptions of the divine attributes. 

It would be both useless and impracticable to enumerate 
all those trifling casualties which have, in one place or 



93 



another, been regarded as manifestations of God's inter- 
ference. The flight of birds — the neighing of a horse — the 
drawing of lots — and a thousand other such inconsequential 
incidents have been consulted as instructors and guides to 
human short-sightedness, and as interpreters of the divine 
decrees. To disregard one of them was considered as an 
act of impiety, and contempt of a special warning. The 
phenomena thus selected have been infinitely various — the 
doctrine and principle exactly similar throughout. 

To illustrate the depravation of judgment produced by 
these expectations of divine interference, it is important to 
remark their effect when recognized and acted upon in the 
system of judicature — a province wherein, as it demands 
the most complete preparation and use of the faculties, all 
mistaken principles are the most prominently displayed. 

The trial by ordeal has been most universally approved 
and established, in the infancy at least of all societies, from 
Hindostan to America. Unable to discover satisfactory 
criteria of guilt and innocence, by a just comparison of 
conflicting testimony, mankind have endeavoured to extri- 
cate themselves from the uneasy feelings of doubt, by a blind 
reliance on the extra- experimental belief. In confidence 
that the point would be decided for them, they have 
abandoned the task of determining it for themselves, and 
have been contented with executing what they regarded as 
the divine verdict. Now certainly if the Deity is ever in 
any case believed to interpose, this is the occasion of all 
others when his interposition would be most naturally and 
most rationally anticipated, supposing him truly benevolent. 
Were a chief-justice animated by genuine benevolence, his 
feelings would not permit him to remain inactive, when his 
efforts might extricate the innocent from impending 
punishment, or expose the shifts of the guilty. 

But though this is by far the most defensible case in 
which divine interpositions have ever been looked for, we 
hear it unanimously treated, by writers of the present day, 
as a symptom of the most pitiable imbecility — as utterly 
incompetent to elicit the truth — and as the most cruel dis- 
tortion of penal judicature. The miserable effects which a 
belief in the temporal agency of God has produced, in this 
case alone without mentioning others, are incalculable. 



94 



Reflect on the number of persons whom the issue of the 
ordeal has consigned to unmerited torture, or protected 
from an appropriate penalty — on the bar thus opposed to 
all improvement in the judicial process — on the extension 
of this method of lottery to all other matters of doubt, 
which its reception in the sacred field of judicature would 
countenance : Consider too that these evils still infest per- 
haps the larger portion of the globe, and all the uninstructed 
nations who inhabit it. This immense mass of misfortune 
flows from one particular application — and that too the 
most rationally deduced from the current hypothesis — of 
the belief in the temporal interference of the Deity. 

The example which has been just cited is of great value, 
because we there behold the belief in superhuman agency 
applied to a distinct and particular case, and thence pro- 
ducing consequences which it is impossible to shuffle over 
or evade. These consequences are universally admitted to 
be most pernicious, in the instance of ordeal — and similar 
effects cannot fail to result, whenever the same belief is 
elsewhere entertained and applied to action. He who feels 
confidence that the Deity will decide for him a particular 
point, or realize any other object of his wishes, will of 
course take no pains to form his own opinion, or to attain 
the object by his own efforts. Keliance on foreign aid, if 
perfect and full, supersedes the necessity of self-exertion 
altogether — and if the person thus relying puts himself to 
any trouble whatever, it is only because his confidence is 
not perfect. A man sits still while his servant is bringing 
up breakfast, because he feels quite confident that his 
desires will be attained without any trouble of his own. 
The belief therefore in super-human interference cannot 
fail, when firmly and thoroughly entertained, to produce an 
entire abandonment of the means suggested by experience 
for human enjoyment. If the Almighty declares against 
us, our efforts are fruitless — if in our favour, they are 
unnecessary : In neither case therefore have we any motive 
to make efforts. 

Expectation of effects on the ground of the divine attri- 
butes must thus, so far as it is really genuine and operative, 
extinguish all forecast, and cut all the sinews of human 
exertion. It must produce this effect whenever it produces 



95 



any at all ; and if such a result is not actually brought 
about, it is only because the nullity of the expectation has 
been in part exposed, and its influence proportionally 
weakened. 

Any doctrine may be stated as having a tendency to 
introduce those consequences which are consistently and 
legitimately deducible from it — and while the doctrine is 
maintained in any one instance, there is always a chance 
that it will be extended to every other. He who looks for 
superhuman aid in one instance, is at least liable to do so 
in another. On this ground it is important to notice the 
mischievous tendency of these expectations, in a case where 
it would not be easy to trace home to them any palpable 
and specific evil consequences, such as those of the ordeal. 

Expectations from the divine attribute of pliability have 
been and still continue universal. At least this is the 
foundation of the frequent prayers which are put up to 
Heaven for different species of relief — built, not upon the 
benevolence of God, for then his assistance would be ex- 
tended alike to all the needy, whether silent or clamorous ; 
but upon his yielding and accessible temper, which though 
indifferent if not addressed, becomes the warm and com- 
pliant partizan of every petitioner. 

Now these expectations, supposing them well-founded 
and firmly entertained, cannot fail to introduce com- 
plete inactivity among the human race. Why should a 
man employ the slow and toilsome methods to which 
experience chains him down, when the pleasure which he 
seeks may be purchased by a simple act of prayer ? Why 
should he plough, and sow, and walk his annual round of 
anxiety, when by the mere expression of a request, an 
omnipotent ally may be induced to place the mature pro- 
duce instantly within his grasp ? No, it is replied — God 
will not assist him unless he employs all his own exertions : 
He will not favour the lazy. In this defence however it is 
implied, either that the individual is not to rely upon God 
at all, in which case there is no motive to offer up the 
prayer — or that he is to feel a reliance, and yet act as if 
he felt none whatever. It is implied, therefore, that the 
conduct of the individual is to be exactly the same as if he 
did not anticipate any superhuman interference. By thil 



96 



defence, you do indeed exculpate the belief in supernatural 
agency from the charge of producing pernicious effects — 
because you reduce it to a mere non-entity, and make it 
produce no effects at all. 

If therefore the request is offered up with any hope of 
being realized, it infallibly proves pernicious, by relaxing 
the efforts of the petitioner to provide for himself. Should 
he believe that God will, when he himself has done his 
utmost, make up the deficiency and crown his views with 
success ; the effect will be to make him undertake any 
enterprises whatever, without regarding the inadequacy of 
his means. Provided he employs actively all the resources 
in his power, he becomes entitled to have the balance made 
up from the divine treasury. " God never sends a child " 
(says the proverb) "but He sends food for it to eat." What 
is the natural inference from this doctrine, except that a 
man may securely marry without any earthly means of 
providing for his family, inasmuch as God will be sure to 
send him some ? 

What preserves the evil effects of this right of petitioning, 
which man is asserted to possess over the Deity, from the 
notoriety and exposure to which the consequences of the 
ordeal have been subjected — is, the very obscure and in- 
distinct class of human wishes to which its exercise has 
gradually been restricted. Earthly discoveries and prepa- 
rations are more commonly preferred for the satisfaction of 
our usual wants ; nor are men so well contented with the 
provision which their heavenly Father has made for them, 
as to resign entirely all thought for the morrow. Some 
persons pray for their daily bread, it is true, and some do 
not ; but every one without exception either works for it 
himself, or secures the services of some of his fellow-men. 
He who would wish to acquire a fortune or to learn a 
language, and contented himself with praying that God 
would transfer stock to him, or pour down the gift of 
tongues, would be derided as insane. If you ask a man 
whether he would rely upon petitions to Heaven for the 
accomplishment of any definite earthly wish, the incongruity 
of the means to the end appears then so glaring, that he 
thinks you are ridiculing him, although the language em- 
ployed may be the gravest and most decorous. He will 



97 



pray either for objects which he is sure to obtain with or 
without prayer, such as his daily bread — or for objects 
which he cannot tell whether he obtains or not, such as 
that the kingdom of God may come, that His will may be 
done in earth as it is in heaven, &c, or for vague and in- 
determinate gifts, the fulfilment of which is not to be 
referred to any distinct time, such as health, longevity, 
good desires, &c. It is only by its results being thus kept 
in the dark, that the inefficiency of prayer is protected 
from exposure. 

I have thus analyzed the several species of extra-experi- 
mental belief which religion begets in the mind, consisting 
in the persuasion of the existence, creative function, and 
agency both here and in a future life, of a supernatural 
Being. I have endeavoured to demonstrate from the very 
nature of this belief, that it cannot fail to disqualify the 
intellect for the pursuit of temporal happiness, more or less 
in proportion to the extent in which it is entertained. For 
as all our pleasure and all our exemption from want and 
pain, is the result of human provision — as these provisions 
are only so many applications of acquired knowledge, that 
is, of belief conformable to experience — it follows, that the 
whole fabric of human happiness depends upon the intimate 
and inviolable union between belief and experience. What- 
ever has the effect of disjoining the two, is decidedly of a 
nature to undermine and explode all the apparatus essential 
to human enjoyment — and if this result is not actually pro- 
duced, it is only because the train laid is not sufficiently 
extensive, and is confined to the outworks instead of reach- 
ing the heart of the fortress. So far as any result at all is 
brought about, it is an advance towards the accomplishment 
of this work of destruction. And as every separate case, in 
which extra- experimental belief finds reception in the mind, 
paves the way for others, any one disjunction of belief from 
experience has a tendency to produce their entire and 
universal discordance. 

MISCHIEF IV. — SUBORNING UNWARRANTED BELIEF. 

Akin to the foregoing mischief, though not precisely 
identical, is the distorting influence which religion exercises, 
by numbering belief in the catalogue of duties and merits — 

n 



98 



disbelief in that of crimes and offences. It has been already 
explained how, in the divine classification of human actions, 
disbelief is characterized as the most heinous of all tres- 
passes, and belief as very meritorious, though not to a 
corresponding extent. The severest penalties are supposed 
and proclaimed to await the former; very considerable 
rewards to follow the latter. 

So far as these threats and premiums are operative at all, 
the effect must be, to make a man believe that which he 
would not naturally have believed, and disbelieve that which 
he would not naturally have disbelieved. But in the natural 
state of things, a man assents to that which he thinks is 
supported by the best evidence — dissents from what appears 
to be refuted by the best evidence. Under such circum- 
stances, there is nothing to guide his choice except the 
evidence. By holding out rewards to the former, and 
punishments to the latter, you introduce a lateral and ex- 
traneous force, which either wholly shuts out, or partially 
disturbs, the influence of the respective proofs. So far, 
therefore, as the reward is at all effective, it entices him to 
believe upon inadequate proof — so far as the punishment 
acts, it deters him from disbelieving upon adequate disproof. 

Consult the analogy of common life. Is not the offer of 
a bribe to the judge universally reprobated, as disposing 
him to wrong and unauthorized decision ? Is not a threaten- 
ing letter to jurors recognized as tending to the same end ? 
You might indeed allege, that the judge was honest, and 
the jurors intrepid ; and, therefore, that bribe and threat 
were both ineffectual. But it would be impossible to contro- 
vert the pernicious tendency of these methods, supposing 
them to have any influence at all upon the verdict. 

The religious premium offered for faith, tends in like 
manner to corrupt the judgment of an individual, and to 
foist in, by means of his hopes and partiality, a belief which 
unbiassed reason would not have tolerated. The penalties 
denounced against unbelief co-operate most powerfully, 
by enlisting his fears in behalf of the same self-deceit or 
hypocrisy. 

There are, indeed, limits to the influence of rewards and 
punishments in thus engendering factitious belief. No man 
can, while this book is in his hand, make himself believe 



99 



that it is not there. But though he cannot thus drive off 
sensation at pleasure ; yet in matters where the truth does 
not obtrude itself so immediately, but must be gathered 
from various and wide-spread fragments of evidence, he can 
withdraw his thoughts from some, and fasten them upon 
others, almost to an unlimited extent. Hope and fear, 
constitute a motive for this undue preference ; and his mind 
gravitates almost unconsciously towards the gainful side, as 
it shrinks from the terrors of the opposite prospect. He 
dwells on the positive proof of the promising doctrine, and 
sends his invention out in quest of additional rea sons : while 
the negative is never permitted to occupy his attention for 
an instant. No wonder that the former, by thus exclusively 
absorbing the mind, assume a disproportionate value and 
magnitude, and appear irresistible, merely because nothing 
of an opposite tendency is allowed to join issue with them. 

Such are the unjust and distorted movements of the 
intellect, which an interest in the result generally produces : 
and which the rewards and punishments respectively attached 
to belief or disbelief, must of course contribute to produce 
also. 

This sort of reward, indeed, operates as a direct bounty 
upon credulity — that is, upon belief unsupported by sufficient 
and self-convincing evidence. The weaker the evidence, the 
greater is the merit in believing. This follows irresistibly. 
For if it is necessary to encourage belief by an artificial 
bounty, it would be useless to apply this stimulus to any 
doctrine which would of itself command the assent of man- 
kind. The bounty must go where it is most needed ; that 
is, to the support of doctrines which have little or no sup- 
port of their own — and the largest slice of it to those which 
require the greatest encouragement, and would stand the 
least chance of being credited without it. Hence the less 
reason there is for receiving the doctrine, the larger share 
of merit will be awarded to the believer ; and the tendency 
of the religious premium is thus to give birth to the most 
sweeping and indiscriminate credulity. 

When assent or dissent has thus become a question of 
profit and loss, and not of reason, the believer is interested 
in bringing into contempt the guide whom he has deserted. 
He accordingly speaks in the most degrading terms of the 

TT 2 



100 



fallibility and weakness of human reason, and of her in- 
capacity to grasp any very lofty or comprehensive subject. It 
thus becomes a positive merit to decide contrary to reason, 
rather than with her. 

But, with regard to provision of pleasure, and escape of 
pain in the present life, reason is admitted to be our only 
safe director. Whatever, therefore, throws discredit upon 
her, or makes mankind neglect or mistrust her decisions, 
places the mind in a state less likely to discern and follow 
the true path of human happiness. The rewards and punish- 
ments, which religion affixes respectively to belief and un- 
belief, have the most direct tendency to this state of 
blindness and confusion. They cannot fail to engender a 
habit of credulity ; as well as a reluctance to examine, and 
an inability to poise, conflicting testimony. Of all mental 
qualities, this credulity is the weakest and most fatal, 
rendering a man an easy prey to deceit and error, and 
thereby exposing him to incessant disappointment and 
loss. 

Suppose government were to offer large rewards to all 
who believed in witches, or in the personality and marvellous 
feats of Hercules or Jack the Giant-killer — and to threaten 
proportionate punishments to all disbelievers. No one 
would question that these offers and threats, if they were 
at all effective, would contribute to produce a general per- 
version of intellect — and that they would mislead men's 
judgments in numerous other cases besides that one to 
which they immediately applied. Error, when once im- 
planted, uniformly and inevitably propagates its species. 

Precisely the same in all cases, is the effect of erecting 
belief into an act of merit, and rendering unbelief punish- 
able. You either produce no result at all; or you bribe 
and suborn a man into believing what he would not other- 
wise have believed — that is, what appears to him inade- 
quately authenticated. 

MISCHIEF V. — DEPRAVING THE TEMPER. 

That natural religion depraves the temper, and renders 
it infinitely less efficacious to the production of general 
happiness, has been shown in the preceding Sections ; 



101 



inasmuch as it has been proved to engender virulent 
antipathies among mankind, or direct inclinations to harm 
each other. I propose to exhibit under the present head 
a farther deterioration of temper, referable to the same 
source; which does not announce itself in such palpable 
and violent injuries as the direct antipathy occasions, 
though its effects in corrupting the intercourse of life are 
most real and serious. 

It may be asserted as a broad and general truth, that 
whatever curtails the personal comfort and happiness of 
any individual, disqualifies him to an equal extent from 
imparting happiness to his fellow-creatures ; and not only 
thus much, but even disposes him to reduce, if possible, 
their quota of enjoyment to a level with his own. All the 
privations and misery, therefore, which religion inflicts upon 
an individual, extend through him to all those with whom 
he is placed in contact, and form a deduction from their 
happiness no less real and positive. Every particular 
species of private mischief enumerated in the preceding 
chapter, is the parent of a train of misfortunes among the 
small fraternity with which he is connected, by the unsocial 
and malevolent tone of mind which it inevitably generates 
in him. 

There is also another mode in which religion still more 
effectually depraves the temper. The fitful and intermit- 
tent character of its inducements, incapable of keeping a 
steady purchase upon the mind, and daily overborne by 
urgent physical wants — the endless and almost impracti- 
cable compliances exacted in its code — the misty attributes 
of its legislator, who treats every attempt to inquire into 
his proceedings as the most unpardonable of insults — all 
these render it quite impossible for a religionist to preserve 
anything like a satisfactory accordance between his belief 
and his practice. Hence a perpetual uneasiness and dis- 
satisfaction with himself — a sense of infirmity of purpose 
and dereliction of principle — which is thoroughly fatal to all 
calmness or complacency of mind. Privations or torture 
might by habit become tolerable and even indifferent ; but 
this feeling of inferiority and degradation is continually 
renovated, and never ceases to vex the resolving and re- 
resolving sinner. And a mind thus at variance with itself 



102 



can never be at peace with anybody else, or feel sufficient 
leisure to sympathize with the emotions of others. It 
shelters its own vacillation under the plea of the general 
debasement and original wickedness of the whole human 
race : and this plea must assuredly weaken, if it does not 
entirely root out, all sympathy for such degenerate 
beings. 

Dissatisfied with his own conduct, it is hardly possible 
that a man can be satisfied with that of others. We are 
told indeed that this consciousness of imperfection in our- 
selves ought to engender humility, and indulgence towards 
the defects of our brethren. But rarely indeed does it 
produce any such effect as this. Its general tendency is to 
sharpen the edge of envy — to make us more acute in 
hunting out and magnifying the faults of others, inasmuch 
as nearly the sole comfort remaining to us, is the view of 
others equally distant from the same goal. 

When we consider how infinitely the happiness of every 
family and society depends upon the steadiness and equa- 
bility of disposition in each member, whereby all the rest 
are enabled to ascertain and avoid whatever might offend 
him — and upon the sympathy which each man manifests 
for the feelings of the remainder — the mischief above 
explained must be estimated very high in amount. There 
can be no equability of temper, where there is an unceasing 
conflict of principle and practice — of resolution and failure : 
and where the mind is darkened over by a sense of self- 
abasement and guilt. There can be no sympathy either 
for the enjoyments or the sufferings of others, where the 
thoughts of an individual are absorbed in averting post- 
humous torments or in entitling himself to a posthumous 
happiness — and where this object, important as it is, is 
involved in such obscurity, as to leave him in a state of 
perpetual anxiety and apprehension. 

It is useless to affirm, that Religion does not in fact pro- 
duce this unhappy result. If it does not, this is only 
because its motives cannot from their distance and uncer- 
tainty be made to act steadily and consistently upon the 
mind. So far as they do act, they tend to this result — and 
under peculiar circumstances, where the influence of the 
human motives is weakened or nearly removed, go far to 



103 



accomplish it completely. Such is the case in monasteries, 
as may be seen by consulting the account of Don Leucadio 
Doblado, cited above. 

MISCHIEF VI. — CREATING A PARTICULAR CLASS OF PERSONS INCUR- 
ABLY OPPOSED TO THE INTERESTS OF HUMANITY. 

I have endeavoured in the preceding pages to point out 
all the different modes in which natural religion acts in- 
juriously upon the temporal happiness of society. One 
species of injury yet remains to be indicated, and that too 
of incalculable effect and permanence — partly as it is pro- 
ductive of distinct mischief, independently and on its own 
account — partly as it subsidizes a standing army for the 
perpetuation of all the rest. 

Those who believe in the existence and earthly agency 
of a superhuman being, view all facts which they are 
unable to interpret, as special interventions of the celestial 
hand. Incomprehensible phenomena are ascribed naturally 
to the incomprehensible person above. They call forth of 
course the deepest horror and astonishment, as being sudden 
eruptions of the super-aerial volcano, and reminding the 
spectator of its unsubdued and inexhaustible terrors. When 
any such events take place, therefore, his mind is extremely 
embarrassed aud unhinged, and in the highest degree unfit 
for measuring the correctness of any inferences which im- 
mediate fear may suggest. 

Now incomprehensible phenomena occur very frequently 
in the persons of different men — that is, certain men are 
often seen to act in a manner which the spectator is unable 
to reconcile with the general principles of human action, 
so far as they are known to him. Incomprehensible men 
and incomprehensible modes of behaviour, when they do 
thus happen, are of course subject to the same construction 
as other unintelligible events, and are supposed to indicate 
a signal interference of the Deity. When therefore the 
actions of any man differ strikingly from the ordinary 
march of human conduct, we naturally imagine him to be 
under the peculiar impulse and guidance of the divina 
finger. 

Of incomprehensible behaviour the two extremes, though 



104 



of diametrically opposite kinds, are superior wisdom, and 
extravagant folly. A loftier and better cultivated intel- 
ligence attains his ends by means which we cannot fathom 
— overleaps difficulties which seem to us insurmountable — 
foresees consequences which we had never dreamt of. His 
system of action is to us altogether perplexing and inex- 
plicable. There are others again who seem insensible to 
the ordinary motives of man — whose thoughts, words, and 
deeds are alike incoherent and inconsequential — whose 
incapacity disqualifies them for the commonest offices of 
life. Such is the other species of incomprehensible man, 
whom we generally term an idiot or a madman, according 
to circumstances. Both the extremes of intelligence and 
folly thus exhibit phenomena which we are unable to 
account for, and are each therefore referred to the immediate 
influence and inspiration of God. 5 

Amongst early societies, where a very limited number 
of phenomena have yet been treasured up for comparison, 
and where the established general principles are built upon 
so narrow an induction, events are perpetually occurring 
which seem at variance with them. The sum of principles 
thus established, is called the course of nature, and the ex- 
ceptions to them, or supernatural inroads, are extremely 
frequent. Accordingly, men of unaccountable powers and 

5 In a former part of this volume, I have assimilated the God of 
natural religion, on the ground of his attribute of incomprehensibility, 
to a madman. But as this property is here asserted to belong to the 
superior intelligence also, it may be asked why I did not compare the 
divine Being to him, instead of choosing a simile apparently so inap- 
propriate. In reply to this, I must introduce a concise but satisfactory 
distinction. 

The madman is one, incomprehensible both in the ends which he 
seeks and in the means which he takes to attain them — one whose 
desires and schemes are alike inconsistent and unfathomable. The 
superior genius is one, whose ends we can understand and assign per- 
fectly, but whose means for attaining them are inexplicable — inas- 
much as his fertility of invention, and originality of thought, have 
enabled him to combine his operations in a manner never previously 
witnessed. 

Now both the ends which the Deity proposes, and the means by 
which he pursues them, are alike above the comprehension of our finite 
intellects. And this suffices to vindicate the propriety of my original 
comparison. 



105 



behaviour are easy to be found, where the standard of com- 
parison is so imperfectly known ; and the belief in particular 
persons, as inspired by God, is proportionably prevalent in 
an early stage of society. 

Conformably to the foregoing doctrine, we find that rude 
nations generally consider madmen and idiots as persons 
under the impulse of unseen spirits, and view them with 
peculiar awe and reverence. This, however, though a re- 
markable fact, and signally illustrative of the principle, yet 
leads to no important consequences, and may be dismissed 
without farther comment. But the belief of a divine inspi- 
ration and concomitancy in persons of superior intelligence, 
is productive of great and lasting changes in the structure 
of the social union : and it is most instructive as well as 
curious to trace the gradual progress of these alterations. 
A madman is unable to take advantage of any prejudice 
existing in his favour among mankind, or to push such a 
feeling into its most profitable result. It terminates, there- 
fore, in those spontaneous effusions of reverence, which 
do not extend their effects beyond the actual moment and 
individual. 

In order to lead to any lasting consequence, it is neces- 
sary that the performer of incomprehensible acts should 
possess sufficient acuteness to take advantage of the in- 
ference which mankind are disposed to draw from them. 
He need not indeed be a first-rate intellect — but he must 
be some degrees above a madman or an idiot. 

The inferences which an unenlightened mind is in this 
case inclined to adopt, are indeed most extensive and im- 
portant. A man is seen, or believed, to produce some 
given effect, by means which the spectators did not before 
know to be adequate to that effect : astonished at such an 
unforeseen result, they think they cannot too highly mag- 
nify the extent of his power. It has already surpassed 
their anticipations very much — therefore there is no know- 
ing by how much more it may surpass them — no possibility 
of conceiving its limits. He is therefore invested for the 
time with omnipotence, by the supposed momentary de- 
scent and co-operation of the unseen Being above. But if 
the Almighty has condescended to pay such pointed atten- 
tion to any individual, this must be owing to some very 



106 



peculiar intimacy between them. The individual must 
possess extraordinary means of recommending himself to the 
favour of God, in order to attract the distinction of a super- 
natural visit, and to be honoured with the temporary loan 
of a fraction of omnipotence. He must stand high in 
the estimation of the Deity, and must therefore be well ac- 
quainted with his disposition, and with the modes of con- 
ciliating or provoking him. 

Such are the long train of inferences which the perform- 
ance of an unaccountable act suggests to the alarmed be- 
holders. It is important to remark the gigantic strides 
by which the mind is hurried on it knows not where, beyond 
all power of stoppage or limit, the moment it quits the 
guidance of observation, and is induced to harbour extra- 
experimental belief. A man is seen to do an incompre- 
hensible deed : the utmost consequence which experience 
would extract from this, would be, that under circumstances 
not very dissimilar, the same man could repeat the deed. 
If a king is seen to remove one man's scrofula by the touch, 
experience might warrant us in conjecturing that he might 
cure the same disease in another ; but it would be as ridi- 
culous to infer from this single fact, that he possessed the 
power of performing any other feats, as it would be to 
conclude that, because mercury quickened the action of the 
liver, you might rely upon it for the alleviation of the gout. 
Such, I say, would be the conclusion of a rational observer. 
But the mind, when once disengaged from observation, and 
initiated into extra-experimental belief, rolls about without 
measure in her newly- acquired phrenzy, and glances in a 
moment from earth to heaven and from heaven to earth. 
To him that hath, more shall be given : pursuant to this 
maxim, we ascribe to the man w T ho astonishes us by one 
incomprehensible feat, the ability of astonishing us still 
more by a great many others. Nay, the power, which we 
are led to conceive as exerted, seems too vast to be ascribed 
to him alone. We, therefore, introduce an omnipotent 
accomplice into the scene, and regard the feat as indicating 
the intervention of a hand sufficiently mighty to work any 
imaginable marvel. Such is the prompt and forcible transit 
whereby the extra- experimental believer is hurried on to 
swell the power which he beholds into a greater, and that 



107 



still farther into the greatest: — until at last an act of leger- 
demain is magnified into an exhibition of omnipotence. 

But however unwarranted the inferences thus stated may 
appear, their effect is not the less important. The wonder- 
worker gains credit for possessing an extent of power to 
which we can assign no limits ; we view him as a privileged 
being, possessed of a general power of attorney from the 
Almighty to interpret his feelings, to promulgate his will, 
and to draw for supernatural recompense and punishments 
at pleasure. In virtue of this extensive deputation, the 
principal becomes responsible for everything which his 
emissary says and does, and is supposed to resign the whole 
management of earthly affairs in favour of the latter. 

A wonder-worker thus, by merely producing an adequate 
measure of astonishment in the bosoms of mankind, is 
immediately exalted into a station of supreme necessity and 
importance. All knowledge of the divine will, all assistance 
from the divine power, can only be attained through his 
mediation. The patronage thus ascribed to him is enormous, 
and is, like all other patronage, readily convertible into 
every other sort of emolument or desirable object. Every 
one who seeks the divine favour, will not fail to propitiate 
the minister by whom his petition must be countersigned 
— whose blessing or curse determines his future treatment 
at the hands of the Deity. Knowledge of the divine inten- 
tions is another perennial source of influence and lucre to 
the wonder-worker. Hence he is supposed to foreknow the 
phenomena of nature, and the ignorant, when in doubt, 
regulate their behaviour by the results which he prognosti- 
cates. His patent too of interpreting the divine decrees, to 
which no competitor has any access, virtually empowers 
him to manufacture a decalogue on his own account, and to 
enforce its mandates by all the terrors of spiritual police 
and penalties. 

Powers of such tremendous magnitude appear amply 
sufficient to enslave and lay prostrate the whole community. 
And this they infallibly would do, were the extra- experi- 
mental belief steady, equable, and consistent with itself, 
always applying similar principles on similar occasions ; 
and if it were never over-borne by the more immediate 
motives and acquisitions of earth. The urgent necessity of 



108 



providing for temporal exigencies, which are too pressing 
to await the result of an application to heaven, impels the 
minds of men in another direction, and models their as- 
sociations more and more according to the dictates of 
experience. Having acquired, by their own exertions, the 
means of satisfying their wants, they have not so great an 
occasion for aerial aid, and all successive accumulations of 
knowledge tend to weaken the influence of the divine 
deputy over them. 

My present purpose, however, is to investigate not so 
much the extent of this influence, as the direction in which 
it operates. We design to show, that the performer of 
prodigies (or this class, if there be more than one) when 
elevated to the post of interpreter and administrator of the 
divine will, and exercising an influence built upon these 
privileges — becomes animated with an interest incurably 
and in every point hostile to human happiness : That their 
sway can only be matured and perfected by the entire 
abasement and dismantling of the human faculties ; and that 
therefore all their energies must be devoted to the accom- 
plishment of this destructive work, by the best means 
which opportunity presents. 

1 . They have the strongest interest in the depravation of 
the human intellect. For the demand for their services as 
agents for the temporal aid of the Deity, altogether depends 
upon human ignorance and incapacity, and is exactly pro- 
portional to it. Why does a man apply for the divine as- 
sistance? Because he does not know how to accomplish 
his ends without it, or how to procure the requisite ap- 
paratus for the purpose. If he knew any physical means of 
attaining it, he would unquestionably prefer them. Every 
extension therefore of physical methods in the gratification 
of our wishes-, displaces and throws out of employment by 
so much the labour of the aerial functionaries. No one 
prays for the removal of a disease by supernatural aid, 
when he once knows an appropriate surgical remedy. He 
therefore who lives by the commission which he charges on 
the disposal of the former, has a manifest interest in check- 
ing the advance and introduction of the latter. 

Besides, the accumulation of experimental knowledge 
excludes the supernatural man from another of his most 



109 



lucrative employments — that of predicting future events ■ 
Those who are the most ignorant of physical connections, 
and therefore the least qualified to form a judgment as to 
any particular result, are of course the most frequent in 
their applications for extra-physical guidance^ and the most 
likely to follow it. This is their sole mode of procuring 
the most indispensable of all acquisitions. Upon them too 
it is the most easy to palm a vague and oracular response 
or decree as to the future, capable of applying to almost 
any result ; and they are the most easily imposed upon by 
shifts and pretences which veil the incapacity of the respon- 
dent. When mankind advance a little in knowledge, and 
become inquisitive, the task of the soothsayer becomes more 
and more difficult; whereas ignorance and credulity are 
duped without any great pains. The supernatural agent 
therefore has a deadly interest against the advance of 
knowledge, not only as it introduces a better machinery 
for obtaining acquaintance with the future, and thereby 
throws him out of employment as a prophet — but also as it 
enables mankind to detect the hollow, fictitious, and illusory 
nature of his own predicting establishment. 

2. As he is interested in impeding the progress of know- 
ledge, so he is not the less interested in propagating and 
cherishing extra - experimental belief. Ignorance is his 
negative ally, cutting off mankind from any other means of 
satisfying their wants except those which he alone can 
furnish : Extra- experimental belief is the substratum on 
which all his influence is built. It is this which furnishes 
to mankind all their evidence of the being, a power and 
agency of his invisible principal, and also of the posthumous 
scenes in preparation for us, where these are to be exhibited 
on a superior and perfect scale. It is this too which supplies 
mankind with the credentials of his own missions, and makes 
them impute to him at once, and without cavilling, all that 
long stretch of aerial dignity and prerogative, the actual 
proof of which it would have been difficult for him to have 
gone through. Both the hopes and fears, therefore, which 
call for his interference, and the selection of him as the 
person to remove them, rest upon the maintenance of extra- 
experimental persuasion in the human breast. Were belief 
closely and inseparably knit with experience, he would 



110 



never obtain credit for the power of doing anything else 
than what mankind really saw him do. His interest ac- 
cordingly prompts him to disjoin the two — to disjoin them 
an every occasion in his power, if he would ensure their 
disjunction for his own particular case. 

Any one therefore whose power and credit with mankind, 
rests upon the imputation of supernatural ambassadorship, 
must be impelled by the most irresistible motives to dis- 
unite belief from experience in the bosoms of mankind, as 
much as he possibly can. 

3. Take the same person again, in his capacity of licensed 
interpreter of the divine will and decrees. What edicts 
will he be likely to promulgate, as emanating from this 
consecrated source ? 

The only circumstance which makes the power of the 
law-interpreter inferior to that of the legislator, is the 
accessibility of the text which he professes to explain. 
Where this is open to the whole public as well as to him, 
his explanation may be controverted, and recourse will then 
be had to the production of the original. But if either 
there exist no original at all, or the interpreter possesses 
the exclusive custody of it, his power is completely equiva- 
lent to that of a legislator. 

Now in one of these two alternatives stand the divine 
decrees. Either there never were any original decrees at 
all — or if there were, they have been deposited in a spot 
unknown to any one except the authorized interpreters. 
And therefore the latter become in fact legislators, issuing 
whatever edicts they choose in the name and on the behalf 
of their invisible master — and enforcing them ad libitum by 
any imaginable measure of punishment or reward, drawn 
from his inexhaustible magazines. 

Now what principle will govern the enactments of an 
interpreter, or licensed class of interpreters, when thus 
exercising an unfettered power of legislation ? The general 
principles of human nature suffer us not to hesitate a 
moment in answering this question. It will be a regard to 
their own separate interest. Like all other monopolists 
who possess the exclusive privilege of rendering any par- 
ticular service, like all other possessors of power independent 
of, and irresponsible to, the community — they will pursue 



Ill 



the natural path of self-preference, and will apply their 
functions to purposes of aggrandizement and exaction. 

Now this separate interest is irreconcileably at variance 
with that of society. If any man, or any separate class, 
are permitted to legislate for their own benefit, they are 
in effect despots; while the rest of the community are 
degraded to the level of slaves, and will be treated as such 
by the legislative system so constructed. Conformably to 
this system the precepts delivered by the supernatural 
delegate as enacted by his invisible master, will be such as 
to subjugate the minds of the community, in the highest 
practicable degree, to himself and to his brethren, and to 
appropriate for the benefit of the class as much wealth and 
power as circumstances will permit. This is a mere state- 
ment of the dictates of self-preference. 

4. To effect this purpose, he will find it essentially neces- 
sary to describe the Deity as capricious, irritable, and 
vindictive, to the highest extent — as regarding with gloom 
and jealousy the enjoyments of the human worm, and taking 
delight in his privations or sufferings — pliable indeed 
without measure, and yielding up instantaneously all his 
previous sentiments, when technically and professionally 
solicited — but requiring the perpetual application of emol- 
lients to soothe his wrathful propensities. The more 
implicitly mankind believe in these appalling attributes, the 
more essential is he who can stand in the gap and avert the 
threatened pestilence — the more necessary is it to insure 
his activity by feeing and ennobling him. On whatever 
occasions he can, in the capacity of interpreter to the 
divine will, persuade them that they are exposed to super- 
natural wrath —in all such junctures, he will obtain a fee, 
as mediator or intercessor, for procuring a reprieve. 

The more therefore he can multiply the number of 
offences against God, the greater does his profit become — 
because on every such act of guilt, the sinner will find it 
answer to forestall the execution of the sentence by effecting 
an amicable compromise with the vicegerent of the Al- 
mighty. For rendering so important a service, the latter 
may make his own terms. 

But in order to multiply offences, the most efficacious 
method is to prohibit those acts which there is the most 



112 



frequent and powerful temptation to commit. Now the 
temptation to perform any act is of course proportional to 
the magnitude of the pleasurable, and the smallness of the 
painful, consequences by which it is attended. Those deeds, 
therefore, which are the most delightful, and the most 
innoxious, will meet with the severest prohibitions in the 
religious code, and be represented as the most deeply 
offensive to the divine majesty. Because such deeds will 
be most frequently repeated and will accordingly create the 
amplest demand for the expiatory formula. 

Such therefore will be the code constructed by the super- 
natural delegate in the name of his unearthly sovereign — 
including the most rigorous denunciations against human 
pleasure, and interdicting it the more severely in proportion 
as it is delicious and harmless. He will enjoin the most 
gratuitous and unrequited privations, and self-imposed 
sufferings, as the sole method of conciliating the divine 
mercy, — inasmuch as the neglect of these mandates must 
be the most common, and all such remissness will incur a 
penalty which the transgressor must be compelled to 
redeem. 

5. All the purchase which the interpreter of the divine 
will has upon the human mind, depends upon the extent of 
its superhuman apprehensions. It is therefore his decided 
interest that the dread of these unseen visitations should 
haunt the bosoms of mankind, like a heavy and perpetual 
incubus, day and night — that they should live under a 
constant sense of the suspended arm of God — and thus in a 
state of such conscious insecurity and helplessness, that 
all possibility of earthly comfort should be altogether 
blighted and cast out. The more firmly these undefined 
terrors can be planted in a man's associations, the more 
urgent is his need of a mediator with the aerial kingdom to 
which his apprehensions refer, and the more enormous the 
sacrifices which he will make in order to purchase such 
intercession. 

6. Again, it will be the decided interest of the inspired 
legislator, to clothe all his enactments in the most imposing- 
epithets of moral approbation — to describe the Being, by 
whom he is commissioned, in terms which imply the holiest 
and most beneficent character, though the proceedings and 



113 



the system which he attributes to him indicate the very 
opposite temper — and to make mankind believe that every 
act of this Being is, and must be, just. By thus perverting 
their moral sentiments, he tightens and perpetuates the 
pressure of superhuman apprehensions. There will be less 
tendency to murmur and revolt at these threats, when men 
are persuaded that they have justly incurred the anger of 
an all-beneficent Being. 

By this analysis, I think, it appears most demonstratively, 
that all those whose influence rests on an imputed connec- 
tion with the Divine Being, cannot fail to be animated by 
an interest incurably opposed to all human happiness : that 
the inevitable aim of such persons must be to extend and 
render irremediable those evils which natural religion 
would originate without them, viz., ignorance, extra-experi- 
mental belief, appalling conceptions of the Deity, intense 
dread of his visitations, and a perversion of the terms of 
praise and censure in his behalf. To this identity of result 
I have traced them both, although by different and perfectly 
unconnected roads. 

Natural religion is thus provided with an array of human 
force and fraud for the purpose of enforcing her mandates, 
and realizing her mischievous tendencies. A standing 
army of ministers is organized in her cause, formed either 
of men who are themselves believed to be specially gifted 
from the sky, or of others who pretend not to any imme- 
diate inspiration in their own persons, but merely act as 
the sub-delegates of some heaven-commissioned envoy of 
aforetime. The interest of both these sorts of persons is 
precisely identical, nor is it of the smallest importance, 
whether the patent is worked by the original pretender, or 
by any one else into whose hands it may have subse- 
quently fallen. In either case its fruits are equally dele- 
terious. 

In either case, the same conspirators league themselves 
for the same purposes — that of promulgating and explain- 
ing the will of their incomprehensible master, and subju- 
gating to his thraldom the knowledge and the hopes of 
mankind. And the accession of strength, which religion 
derives from this special confederation in her favour, is in- 
calculable. They supply many defects, in her means of 



114 



conquest and influence, which must otherwise have rendered 
her dominion comparatively narrow. 

First, one grand deficiency in unofficered religion, is the 
absence of any directive rule. Mankind, from their con- 
ceptions of the character of the Deity, will doubtless con- 
jecture what sort of conduct will be agreeable to him, and 
will also fix upon some particular actions belonging to that 
course as more agreeable than others. But this unguided 
and promiscuous selection is not likely to be either uniform, 
earnest, or circumstantial. 

When a body of authorized agents is framed, through 
whom the designs and temper of the Deity can be learnt, 
this defect is completely supplied. The ceremonial pleasing 
to him is then officially declared : the acts offensive to him 
are enumerated and defined, and their greater or less enor- 
mity graduated. Doubt and controversy are precluded, or 
at least exceedingly narrowed, by an appeal to the recog- 
nized organ of infallibility. And thus the superhuman 
terrors are concentrated and particularized, whereby they 
are brought to act in the most cogent and effective manner 
which the nature of the case admits. 

2. In analyzing the efficiency of the religious sanctions, 
we have already seen that their remoteness and uncertainty 
will not allow of their producing a steady, equable and un- 
varying impression upon the mind — although at peculiar 
moments these apprehensions become supreme and over- 
whelming, even to insanity. For motives thus subject to 
fluctuation, the constant presence of a standing brother- 
hood is peculiarly requisite, in order to watch those periods 
when the mind is most vuloerable to their influence — to 
multiply and perpetuate, if possible, these temporary liabi- 
lities, and to secure the production of some permanent 
result during the continuance of the fit. The ministers of 
natural religion, by bringing their most efficient batteries 
to bear upon the mind at these intervals, frequently succeed 
in extending the duration of the supernatural fears, and 
subjugating the whole man for life. 

Sickness — mental affliction — approaching death — child- 
hood — all these are periods when the intellect is depressed 
and feeble, and when the associations are peculiarly liable 
to the inroads of every species of fear — they are the times 



115 



therefore when the officer of the invisible world exercises 
the most uncontrolled despotism over the soul, and bends 
it whither he will. Were it not for his dexterity in con- 
triving to render the bias permanent, the sick or the des- 
pondent would probably relapse, in no long period, into 
their habitual state, of comparative insensibility to super- 
natural terrors. 

With regard to the dying man, indeed, no ulterior views 
can be entertained; but the immediate effect of the pre- 
sence and ascendancy of a religious minister, on the occa- 
sion, is most important. Without his aid, posthumous 
apprehensions would indeed embitter the hour of death, 
but this would be productive of no subsequent evil. The 
minister not only aggravates these terrors to an infinitely 
higher pitch, but offers to the distracted patient a definite 
and easy mode by which he may in part alleviate them, and 
lessen the impending risk. He must make some atonement 
or satisfaction to God, in return for the offensive acts with 
which his life has abounded, by transferring a part or the 
whole of that property which he is at all events about to 
leave behind. But as he cannot have access in person to 
the offended principal, this property must be handed over 
in trust to his accredited agent or minister, for the inacces- 
sible party. By such testamentary donation the sins of the 
past are in part redeemed. 

The religious fears attending upon the hour of death are- 
thus converted into powerful engines for enriching the 
sacerdotal class, who contrive to extract this lasting profit 
from an affection of mind which would otherwise have 
caused nothing beyond momentary pain. The act of mort- 
main attests the height to which these death-bed commuta- 
tions have actually been carried : nor is it extravagant to 
assert, that had there been no change of the public senti- 
ment and no interposition of the legislature, nearly all the 
land of England would have become the property of the 
Church. 

3. It should by no means be forgotten, that the ineffi- 
ciency, and the alternation from general indifference to 
occasional fever, which I have shown to belong to the religious 
sanction, constitute the leading source of importance and 
emolument to the priesthood. Suppose mankind to be 

1 2 



116 



perfectly acquainted with all the modifications of the Divine 
temper, and strictly observant of his commands, the func- 
tions of this class would of course become extinct. There 
would be no necessity for their services either as inter- 
preters, mediators, or intercessors. 

It is their decisive interest to multiply offences, as pre- 
parations for the lucrative season of repentance, during 
which their sway is at its zenith, and their most advan- 
tageous contracts realized. For each crime a pardon must 
be obtained through the intercession and agency of the 
authorized mediator. He must therefore be propitiated by 
payment both in money and honour, and the profits of the 
sacerdotal body bear an accurate ratio to the number of 
offences committed, and of pardons implored. 

Thus the nature of the religious sanction, though very 
ill adapted for the purpose of actually terminating the prac- 
tices it forbids, is yet calculated in the most precise manner 
to exalt and enrich the officers busied in enforcing it. This 
is the end, at which, supposing them like other men, they 
will be constantly aiming, and they have enjoyed facilities 
in the attainment of it rarely possessed by mere inter- 
mediate agents. 

For, first, they have found posthumous terror, from its 
instability and occasional fierceness, an exquisite prepara- 
tive of the mind for their dominion. And, secondly, they 
have united two functions which have placed this feeling 
entirely under their direction — they are, ex-officio, both 
framers of the divine law and vendors of the divine pardons 
for infringements of it. They have named the acts which 
required forgiveness as well as the price at which forgive- 
ness should be purchased. Suppose only the periodical 
spring-tides of superhuman fear to reach a certain height, 
and this machinery for subjugation becomes perfect and 
irresistible. 

If in earthly matters, these two functions were united — 
if the same person were to become framer of the law, and 
agent for the sale of licences to elude it — it is manifest, that 
he would make terrestrial laws inconceivably burdensome 
and exactive, so that there should be no possibility of ob- 
serving them.. The interest of the sacerdotal class has 
\)een completely similar, leading them to require, in the 



117 



name of the Deity, obedience where obedience is imprac- 
ticable, and then making men pay for the deficiency. Ac- 
cordingly they inform us that he is a Being of such an exqui- 
site and irritable temperament — so nicely susceptible, and 
so vehemently impatient of everything which is not exactly 
like himself, that we cannot escape his displeasure, except 
by undergoing a thorough repair and regeneration upon 
the celestial model. If but the most transient wish for 
anything unlike to God, or unholy, shoots across the mind, 
it constitutes criminality and is deeply abhorrent to the 
divine perfection. To such a state of entire conformity no 
human being ever yet attained — and thus, by the invention 
of an impracticable code, mankind are placed in a constant 
necessity of discharging expiatory fees, and purchasing 
licences of evasion. 

In this respect, the sacerdotal interest is directly at 
variance, not only with that of the human race, but also 
with that of the divine Being. He sincerely desires, with- 
out doubt, that his edicts should be strictly obeyed, and, 
therefore, would be willing to facilitate their execution, so 
far as is consistent with his own sensitive and exquisite 
purity. But the middlemen who pretend to serve him 
have unfortunately an interest in their non-performance, 
and therefore throw every possible obstacle in the way of 
obedience. 

4. In a former part of this work, I endeavoured to show, 
that the real actuating force which gave birth to religious 
deeds, though so masked as not to be discernible on a 
superficial view was public opinion. There cannot be a 
more effectual spur to this popular sentiment than the for- 
mation of a body whose peculiar interest lies in watching 
its various turns, in kindling it anew, and dexterously 
diversifying its applications. For this task they possess 
numerous advantages. The necessity of recurring to their 
services on many occasions ensures to them a large measure 
of respect, as well as of wealth, and this re-acts upon the 
function which they exercise. They labour sedulously to 
inculcate the deepest reverence in speaking of religious 
matters, as well as extreme backwardness and timidity of 
soul in subjecting them to the examination of reason. They 
diffuse widely among the community those pious misap- 



113 



plications of moral epithets, which are inseparably annexed 
to the natural belief in an omnipotent Being, availing 
themselves of this confusion of language to stigmatize as 
iniquitous everything which counteracts their own views, 
and to extol as virtuous that which favours them. 

By thus whipping up and propagating the religious an- 
tipathies of mankind, they generally succeed in organizing 
that tone of public opinion which is most conducive to their 
interest : that is, a sentiment which rigorously enforces a 
certain measure of religious observance — while it also recog- 
nizes in words, as incumbent and necessary duties of piety, 
a number of other acts which no one ever performs, and 
which mankind will allow you to leave undone, provided 
you do not question the propriety of doing them. A variance 
is thus introduced between the religious feelings and the 
reigning practice, and whenever any accident preternaturally 
kindles the former, such a laxity of conduct will of course 
appear pregnant with guilt. Hence that ebb and flow of 
mind, and those periodical spasms of repentant alarm, which 
can only be charmed away by purchasing comfort at the 
hands of the spiritual exorcist. And thus the constitution 
of the public sentiment becomes a preparation and me- 
dium for the effectual dominion of this class. 

5. The fundamental principle, upon which all the super- 
human machinery rests its hold, has been shown to consist 
in extra-experimental belief. Now in diffusing and strength- 
ening this species of persuasion, the sacerdotal body form 
most essential auxiliaries. They are the legitimate and 
acknowledged interpreters of all incomprehensible events, 
and any inference which they extract from thence is uni- 
versally adopted. This bestows upon them an unlimited 
licence of coining and circulating as much extra-experi- 
mental matter as they choose, and of distorting the physical 
links among phenomena by smuggling in an appeal to the 
divine intentions. By their constant and well-paid activity, 
also, every casual coincidence is magnified into a prodigy 
— every prediction accidentally verified, into a proof 
of their free-right of admission behind the unexpanded 
scenes of futurity. Besides they are continually at hand 
to spread abroad those myriads of fictions, which the extra- 
experimental belief has been shown to engender. Menda- 



119 



city itself becomes consecrated, when employed in behalf 
of religion ; and the infinity of pious frauds, which may be 
cited from the pages of history, sufficiently attest the zeal 
and effect with which the sacerdotal class has laboured in 
the diffusion of this unreal currency. 

From this successive accumulation of particular instances, 
a large aggregate of extra-experimental matter is at last 
amassed, which lays claim to the title and honours of a 
separate science. The stories upon which it is founded 
are so thickly and authoritatively spread abroad — appa- 
rently so unconnected one with the other, and relying upon 
numerous separate attestations, that it seems impossible 
to discredit the whole, and difficult to know where to draw 
the line. To fulfil so nice a task, writers arise who com- 
pare the different stories together, arrange them into a 
systematic order, extract meanings and inferences from 
these collations, and reject those particulars which cannot 
be reconciled with the theories thus elicited. This aerial 
matter is distributed into a regular and distinct branch of 
knowledge, partitioned into various subordinate depart- 
ments, and the sacerdotal class of course monopolizes the 
guidance and guardianship of this science almost exclu- 
sivelv to themselves. We have only to consult the first 
book of Cicero, " de Divinatione," in order to observe the 
minute subdivisions which the imaginary science of augury 
underwent in those times — the formal array of conclusions 
which appear to be strictly deduced from its alleged facts, 
and the various philosophical systems framed to explain 
and reconcile them. 

Accordingly the extra- experimental belief, when sufficientlj 
augmented in volume, becomes possessed of a distinct 
station among the sciences, and reflects upon its practi- 
tioners and professors all that credit which is annexed 
to superiority in any other department. Realities become 
divided into two separate classes : First, the world of expe- 
rience, embracing all which we see, feel, hear, taste, or 
smell, and the various connections among them. Secondly, 
the world of which we have no experience, consisting of 
what are called immaterial entities, or of those things 
which we neither see, nor feel, nor hear, nor taste, nor 
smell ; but which, nevertheless, we are supposed to know 



120 



without any experience at all. The latter science is always 
the colleague and correlative of the former — frequently ^ 
indeed, it is more highly esteemed and more assiduously 
cultivated. 

I have endeavoured to trace some of those modes, in 
which the brotherhood hired and equipped by natural reli- 
gion have contrived to promote, in so high a degree, the 
success of the cause inscribed on their banners — and in so 
much higher a degree, to aggrandize and enrich themselves. 
My sketch, indeed, has been exceedingly superficial and 
incomplete ; because the facilities which such a standing 
corps possesses for compassing its ends, are both innu- 
merable and indescribable. We ought not, however, to 
forget, that a wealthy and powerful body of this kind not 
only acts with its own force, but also with that of all who 
have anything to hope, or to fear, from it. To become a 
member of the body constitutes a valuable object of ambi- 
tion, and all, who have any chance of attaining such a post, 
will of course conspire vehemently in its support. Be- 
sides, there arises a long train of connections and dependants, 
who diffuse themselves everywhere through the community, 
and contribute most materially to spread and enhance the 
influence of the class. 

In addition to these, however, they have yet another ally, 
more powerful and efficient than all the rest, — the earthly 
chief, or governing power of the state. He, as well as they, 
has an interest incurably at variance with that of the com- 
munity, and all sinister interests have a natural tendency to 
combine together and to co-operate, inasmuch as the object 
of each is thereby most completely and most easily secured. 
But between the particular interest of a governing aristocracy 
and a sacerdotal class, there seems a very peculiar affinity 
and coiucidence — each wielding the precise engine which 
the other wants. 

The aristocracy, for instance, possess the disposal of a 
mass of physical force sufficient to crush any partial resist- 
ance, and demand only to be secured against any very 
general or simultaneous opposition on the part of the com- 
munity. To make this sure, they are obliged to maintain a 
strong purchase upon the public mind, and to chain it 
down to the level of submission — to plant within it feelings 
which may neutralize all hatred of slavery, and facilitate the 



121 



business of spoliation. For this purpose the sacerdotal class 
is most precisely and most happily cut out. By their influ- 
ence over the moral sentiments, they place implicit submis- 
sion among the first of all human duties. They infuse the 
deepest reverence for temporal power, by considering the 
existing authorities as established and consecrated by the 
immaterial Autocrat above, and as identified with his 
divine majesty. The duty of mankind towards the earthly 
government becomes thus the same as duty to God — that 
is, an unvarying u prostration both of the understanding 
and will " Besides this direct debasement of the moral 
faculties for the purpose of assuring non-resistance, the 
supernatural terrors, and the extra- experimental belief, which 
the priesthood are so industrious in diffusing, all tend to the 
very same result. They produce that mistrust, alarm, and 
insecurity, which disposes a man to bless himself in any little 
fragment of present enjoyment, while it stifles all aspirations 
for future improvement and even all ideas of its practi- 
cability. 

Such is the tacit and surreptitious, though incessant and 
effectual, operation on the public sentiment, by which the 
priesthood keep down all disposition on the part of man- 
kind to oppose the inroads of their governors. Their influ- 
ence is perhaps greater when they preach thus on behalf of 
the government, than on their own. Because in the former 
case, the interest which they have in the doctrine is not so 
obvious, and they appear like impartial counsellors, incul- 
cating a behaviour of which they themselves are first to set 
the example. 

The earthly ruler, on the other hand, amply repays the 
co-operation which he has thus derived. The mental (or 
psychological) machinery of the priesthood is very ex- 
cellent ; but they are unhappily deficient in physical force. 
Hence the protection of the earthly potentate is of most 
essential utility to a class so defectively provided in this 
main point. The coercion which he supplies is all sanctified 
by the holy name of religion, in defence of which it is 
resorted to ; and he is extolled, while thus engaged, as the 
disinterested servant of the invisible Being. He is therefore 
permitted to employ, in behalf of religion, an extent and 
disposition of force which would have provoked indignation 
and revolt, on any other account. 



122 



The utmost extent of physical force, which circumstances 
will permit, is in this manner put forward, to smother any 
symptom of impiety, or even of dissent from the sacerdotal 
dogmas. Irreligion and heresy become crimes of the deepest 
dye, and the class are thus secured, in their task of working 
on the public mind, from all competition or contest. Under 
the protection of such powerful artillery, this corps of 
sappers and miners carries on a tranquil, but effectual, 
progress in the trenches. 

'Nov is it merely a negative aid which the earthly governor 
extends to them. He extorts from the people, in their favour, 
a large compulsory tribute, in order to maintain them in 
affluence and in worldly credit ; thus securing to them an 
additional purchase upon the public sentiment, and confirm- 
ing his own safety from resistance. Under no other pretence 
could he induce the people to pay taxes, specially for the 
purpose of quartering throughout the country a standing 
army of advocates to check and counteract all opinions 
unfavourable to himself. They may be brought to this 
sacrifice in behalf of a sacerdotal class, whose interest, by 
the forced provision thus obtained, becomes still more 
closely identified with that of the earthly ruler. 

One of the most noxious properties therefore, in the pro- 
fession of men to which natural religion gives birth, is its 
coincidence and league with the sinister interests of earth — 
a coincidence so entire, as to secure unity of design on the 
part of both, without any necessity for special confederation, 
and therefore more mischievously efficient than it would 
have proved had the deed of partnership been open and 
proclaimed. Prostration and plunder of the community is 
indeed the common end of both. The only point upon 
which there can be any dissension, is about the partition of 
the spoil — and quarrels of this nature have occasionally 
taken place, in cases where the passive state of the people 
has obviated all apprehension of resistance. In general, 
however, the necessity of strict amity has been too visible 
to admit of much discord, and the division of the spoil has 
been carried on tranquilly, though in different ratios, accord- 
ing to the tone of the public mind. 



THE END. 



ADDRESS 



DELIVERED BEFORE 

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION 



ASSEMBLED AT BELFAST. 



BY 

JOHN TYNDALL, F. R. S., 

PRESIDENT. 



REVISED BY THE AUTHOR, 

WITH A SECOND PREFACE, REPLYING TO HIS CRITICS ; AND AN APPENDED 
ARTICLE ON "SCIENTIFIC MATERIALISM." 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

549 AND 551 BROADWAY. 
1875. 



" There is one God supreme over all gods, diviner than mortals, 
Whose form is not like unto man's, and as unlike his nature ; 
But vain mortals imagine that gods like themselves are begotten, 
With human sensations and voice and corporeal members ; 
So, if oxen or lions had hands and could work in man's fashion, 
/ And trace out with chisel or brush their conception of Godhead, 
, ; Then would horses depict gods like horses, and oxen like oxen, 
' Each kind the divine with its own form and nature endowing." 

Xenophanes of Colophon (six centuries b. c), "Supernatural Keligion,' 
Vol. L, p. 76. 



" It were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such 
an opinion as is unworthy of him ; for the one is unbelief, the 
other is contumely." Bacon. 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



I take advantage of a pause in the issue of this Ad- 
dress, to add a few prefatory words to those already 
printed. 

The world has been frequently informed of late that 
I have raised up against myself a host of enemies; and 
considering, with few exceptions, the deliverances of the 
Press, and more particularly of the religious Press, I am 
forced sadly to admit that the statement is only too true. 
I derive some comfort, nevertheless, from the reflection of 
Diogenes, transmitted to us by Plutarch, that " he who 
would be saved must have good friends or violent enemies ; 
and that he is best off who possesses both." 1 This " best" 
condition, I have reason to believe, is mine. 

Reflecting on the fraction I have read of recent re- 
monstrances, appeals, menaces, and judgments — covering 
not only the world that now is, but that which is to 
come — it has interested me to note how trivially men 
seem to be influenced by what they call their religion, 
and how potently by that "nature " which it is the alleged 
province of religion to eradicate or subdue. From fair 
and manly argument, from the tenderest and holiest sym- 
pathy on tin: part of those who desire my eternal good, 

1 Fortnhjhlhj R< view, vol. xiv., p. 630. 



i 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION, 



I pass by many gradations, through deliberate unfairness, 
to a spirit of bitterness which desires, with a fervor inex- 
pressible in words, my eternal ill. Now, were religion the 
potent factor, we might expect a homogeneous utterance 
from those professing a common creed, while, if human 
nature be the really potent factor, we may expect utter- 
ances as heterogeneous as the characters of men. As 
a matter of fact we have the latter ; suggesting to my 
mind that the common religion professed and defended by 
these different people is merely the accidental conduit 
through which they pour their own' tempers, lofty or 
low, courteous or vulgar, mild or ferocious, holy or un- 
holy, as the case may be. Pure abuse, however, I have 
deliberately avoided reading, wishing to keep, not only 
hatred, malice, and uncharitableness, but even every trace 
cf irritation, far away from my side of a discussion which 
demands not only good temper, but largeness, clearness, 
and many-sidedness cf mind, if it is to guide us even to 
provisional solutions. 

At an early stage of the controversy a distinguished 
Professor of the University of Cambridge was understood 
to argue — and his argument was caught up with amusing 
eagerness by a portion of the religious Press — that my 
ignorance of mathematics renders me incompetent to 
speculate on the proximate origin of life. Had I thought 
his argument relevant, my reply would have been simple ; 
for before me lies a printed document, more than twenty- 
two years old, bearing the signature of this same learned 
Professor, in which he was good enough to testify that I 
am " well versed in pure mathematics." 

In connection with his limitation of speculative ca- 
pacity to the mathematician, the gentleman just referred 
to offered what he considered a conclusive proof of the 
being of a God. This solemn problem he knocked off in 
a single paragraph. It interests me profoundly to reflect 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



5 



upon the difference between the state of mind which 
could rest satisfied with this performance and that of the 
accomplished poet, and more than accomplished critic, 
who in u Literature and Dogma " pronounces the subject 
of the Professor's demonstration " an unverifiable hy- 
pothesis," Whence this difference ? Were the objec- 
tive facts decisive, both writers would come to the same 
conclusion : the divergence is, therefore, to be referred to 
the respective subjective organs which take the outward 
evidence in. When I turn, as I have done from time to 
time for years, to the articles and correspondence in our 
theological journals, and try to gather from them "what 
our religious teachers think of this universe and of each 
other, they seem to me to be as far removed from nine- 
teenth century needs as the priests of the Homeric period. 
Omniscience might see in our brains the physical cor- 
relatives of our differences ; and, were these organs inca- 
pable of change, the world, despite this internal commo- 
tion, would stand still as a whole. But happily that 
Power which, according to Mr. Arnold, " makes for right- 
eousness " is intellectual as well as ethical ; and by its 
operation, not as an outside but as an inside factor of the 
brain, even the mistaken efforts of that organ are finally 
overruled in the interests of truth. 

It has been thought, and said, that, in the revised 
Address as here published, I have retracted opinions ut- 
tered at Belfast. A Roman Catholic writer, who may 
be taken as representative, is specially strong upon this 
point. Startled by the deep chorus of dissent with which 
my dazzling fallacies have been received, he convicts me 
of trying to retreat from my position. This he will by no 
means tolerate. " It is too late now to seek to hide from 
the eyes of mankind one foul blot, one ghastly deformity. 
Professor Tyndall has himself told us how and where this 



c 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



Address of his was composed. It was written among the 
glaciers and the solitudes of the Swiss mountains. It was 
no hasty, hurried, crude production ; its every sentence 
bore marks of thought and care." 

My critic intends to be severe : he is simply just. In 
the " solitudes " to which he refers I worked with delibera- 
tion; endeavoring even to purify my intellect by disci- 
plines similar to those enjoined by his own Church for the 
sanctification of the soul. I tried in my ponderings to 
realize not only the lawful, but the expedient ; and to per- 
mit no fear to act upon my mind save that of uttering a 
single word on which I could not take my stand, either in 
this or any other world. 

Still my time was so brief, and my process of thought 
and expression so slow, that, in a literary point of view, I 
halted, not only behind the ideal, but behind the possible. 
Hence, after the delivery of the Address, I went over it 
with the desire, not to revoke its principles, but to improve 
it verbally, and above all to remove any word which might 
give color to the notion of " heat and haste." In holding 
up as a warning to writers of the present the errors and 
follies of the denouncers of the past, I took occasion to 
compare the intellectual propagation of such denouncers 
to that of thistle-germs ; the expression was thought offen- 
sive, and I omitted it. It is still omitted from the Address. 
There was also another passage, which ran thus : " It is 
vain to oppose this force with a view to its extirpation. 
What we should oppose, to the death if necessary, is every 
attempt to found upon this elemental bias of man's nature 
a system which should exercise despotic sway over his in- 
tellect. I do not fear any such consummation. Science 
has already to some extent leavened the world, and it will 
leaven it more and more. I should look upon the mild 
light of science breaking in upon the minds of the youth 
of Ireland, and strengthening gradually to the perfect day, 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION". ? 

as a surer check to any intellectual or spiritual tyranny 
which might threaten this island than the laws of princes 
or the swords of emperors. < Where is the cause of fear ? 
"We fought and won our battle even in the Middle Ages ; 
why should we doubt the issue of a conflict now ? " 

This passage also was deemed unnecessarily warm, and 
I therefore omitted it. It was an act of weakness on my 
part to do so. For, considering the aims and acts of that 
renowned and remorseless organization which for the time 
being wields the entire power of my critic's Church, not 
only resistance to its further progress, but, were it not for 
the intelligence of Roman Catholic laymen, positive re- 
striction of its present power for evil, might well become 
the necessary attitude of society as regards that organiza- 
tion. With some slight verbal alterations, therefore, which 
do not impair its strength, the passage has been restored. 

My critic is very hard upon the avowal in my Preface 
regarding Atheism. But I frankly confess that his honest 
hardness and hostility are to me preferable to the milder 
but less honest treatment which the passage has received 
from members of other Churches. He quotes the para- 
graph, and goes on to say : " We repeat this is a most re- 
markable passage. Much as we dislike seasoning polem- 
ics with strong words, we assert that this apology only 
tends to affix with links of steel to the name of Professor 
Tyndall the dread imputation against which he struggles." 

Here we have a very fair example of subjective reli- 
gious vigor. But my quarrel with such exhibitions is that 
they do not always represent objective fact. No Atheistic 
reasoning can, I hold, dislodge religion from the heart of 
man. Logic cannot deprive us of life, and religion is life 
to the religious. As an experience of consciousness it is 
perfectly beyond the assaults of logic. But the religious 
life is often projected in external forms — I use the word in 
its widest sense — by no means beyond the reach of logic, 



8 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



which will Lave to bear — and to do so more and more as 
the world becomes more enlightened — comparison with 
facts. The subjective energy to which I have just referred 
is also a fact of consciousness not to be reasoned away. 
My critic feels, and takes delight in feeling, that I am 
struggling, and he obviously experiences the most exquisite 
pleasures of "the muscular sense " in holding me down. 
His feelings are as real as if his imagination of what 
mine are were equally real. His picture of my " strug- 
gles " is, however, a mere phantasm. I do not struggle. 
I do not fear the charge of Atheism ; nor should I even dis- 
avow it, in reference to any definition of the Supreme which 
he, or his order, would be likely to frame. His " links " 
and his "steel" and his "dread imputations" are, there- 
fore, even more unsubstantial than my " streaks/ of morning 
cloud," and they may be permitted to vanish together. 

What are the conceptions in regard to which I place 
myself in the position here indicated ? The Pope himself 
provides me with an answer. In the Encyclical Letter of 
December, 1864, his Holiness writes : " In order that God 
may accede more easily to our and your prayers, let us 
employ in all confidence, as our Mediatrix with Him, the 
Virgin Mary, Mother of God, who sits as a Queen on the 
right hand of her only-begotten Son, in a golden vestment, 
clothed around with various adornments." 

In regard to this, as to other less pictorially anthro- 
pomorphic and sartorial conceptions of the Supreme, I stand 
in an attitude of unbelief ; for, taken in connection with 
what is known of the extent, organization, and general 
behavior of this universe, they lack the congruity neces- 
sary to commend them to me as truth. 

Soon after the delivery of the Belfast Address, the 
Protestant Bishop of Manchester did me the honor of no- 
ticing it ; and, in reference to that notice, a brief and, I 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



9 



trust, not uncourteous remark was introduced into my first 
Preface. Since that time the Bishop's references to me 
have been very frequent. Assuredly this is to me an un- 
expected honor. Still a doubt may fairly be entertained 
whether this incessant speaking before public assemblies 
on emotional subjects does not tend to disturb that equi- 
librium of head and heart which it is always so desirable 
to preserve — whether, by giving an injurious predominance 
to the feelings, it does not tend to swathe the intellect in 
a warm haze, thus making the perception, and consequent 
rendering of facts, indefinite, if not untrue. It was to the 
Bishop I referred in a recent brief discourse 1 as " an able 
and, in many respects, a courageous man, running to and 
fro upon the earth, and wringing his hands over the threat- 
ened loss of his ideals." It is doubtless to this sorrowing 
mood — this partial and, I trust, temporary overthrow of 
the judgment by the emotions — that I must ascribe a prob- 
ably unconscious, but still grave, misrepresentation con- 
tained in the Bishop's last reference to me. In the Times a 
of November 9 th, he is reported to have expressed himself 
thus : " In his lecture in Manchester, Professor Tyndall as 
much as said that at Belfast he was not in his best mood, 
and that his despondency passed^ away in brighter mo- 
ments." Now, considering that a verbatim report of the 
lecture was at hand in the Manchester Examiner, and that 
my own corrected edition of it was to be had for a penny, 
the Bishop, I submit, might have afforded to repeat what I 
actually said, instead of w T hat I " as much as said." I am 
sorry to add that his rendering of my words is a vain imag- 
ination of his own. In my lecture at Manchester there was 
no reference, expressed or implied, to my moods in Belfast. 

To all earnest and honest minds acquainted with the 
paragraph of my first Preface, on which the foregoing re- 

1 See Appendix for passage referred to. The whole discourse is 
given in The Popular Science Monthly for January, 1875. 



10 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



mark of Bishop Fraser, and similar remarks of his ecclesi- 
astical colleagues, not to mention those of less responsible 
writers, are founded, I leave the decision of the question 
whether their mode of presenting this paragraph to the 
public*be straightforward or the reverse. 

These minor and more purely personal matters at an 
end, the weightier allegation remains — that at Belfast I 
misused my position by quitting the domain of science, 
and making* an unjustifiable raid into the domain of the- 
ology. This I fail to see. Laying aside abuse, I hope my 
accusers will consent to reason with me. Is it not com- 
petent for a scientific man to speculate on the antecedents 
of the solar system ? Did Kant, Laplace, and William 
Herschel, quit their legitimate spheres when they pro- 
longed the intellectual vision beyond the boundary of 
experience, and propounded the nebular theory ? Accept- 
ing that theory as probable, is it not permitted to a scien- 
tific man to follow up in idea the series of changes asso- 
ciated with the condensation of the nebulas ; to picture the 
successive detachment of planets and moons, and the rela- 
tion of all of them to the sun ? If I look upon our earth, 
with its orbital revolution and axial rotation, as one small 
issue of the process which made the solar system what it 
is, will any theologian deny my right to entertain and ex- 
press this theoretic view ? Time was when a multitude 
of theologians would be found to do so — when that arch- 
enemy of science which now vaunts its tolerance would 
have made a speedy end of the man who might venture to 
publish any opinion of the kind. But that time, unless the 
world is caught strangely slumbering, is forever past. 

As regards inorganic Nature, then, 1 may traverse, 
without let or hinderance, the whole distance which sepa- 
rates the nebulas from the worlds of to-day. But only a 
few years ago this now conceded ground of science was 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



11 



theological ground. I could by no means regard this as 
the final and sufficient concession of theology ; and at 
Belfast I thought it not only my. right but my duty to 
state that, as regards the organic world, we must enjoy 
the freedom which we have already won in regard to 
the inorganic. I could not discern the shred of a title- 
deed which gave any man, or any class of men, the right 
to open the door of one of these worlds to the scientific 
searcher, and to close the other against him. And I con- 
sidered it frankest, wisest, and in the long-run most con- 
ducive to permanent peace, to indicate without evasion or 
reserve the ground that belongs to Science, and to which 
she will assuredly make good her claim. 

Considering the freedom allowed to all manner of 
opinions in England, surely this was no extravagant posi- 
tion for me to assume. I have been reminded that an 
eminent predecessor of mine in the Presidential chair 
expressed a totally different view of the Cause of things 
from that enunciated by me. In doing so he transgressed 
the bounds of science at least as much as I did ; but no- 
body raised an outcry against him. The freedom that he 
took I claim, but in a more purely scientific direction. 
And looking at what I must regard as the extravagances 
of the religious world ; at the very inadequate and foolish 
notions concerning this universe entertained by the ma- 
jority of our religious teachers ; at the waste of energy 
on the part of good men over things unworthy, if I might 
say it without discourtesy, of the attention of enlightened 
heathens : the fight about the fripperies of Ritualism, the 
mysteries of the Eucharist, and the Athanasian Creed ; 
the forcing on the public view of Pontigny Pilgrimages ; 
the dating of historic epochs from the definition of the 
Immaculate Conception ; the proclamation of the Divine 
Glories of the Sacred Heart — standing in the midst of 
these insanities, it did not appear to me extravagant 



12 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



to claim the public tolerance for an hour and a half for 
the statement of what I hold to be more reasonable 
views : views more in accordance with the verities which 
science has brought to light, and which many weary 
souls would, I thought, welcome with gratification and 
relief. 

But to come to closer quarters. The expression to 
which the most violent exception has been taken is this : 
" Abandoning all disguise, the confession I feel bound to 
make before you is that I prolong the vision backward 
across the boundary of the experimental evidence, and 
discern in that Matter which we, in our ignorance, and 
notwithstanding our professed reverence for its Creator, 
have hitherto covered with opprobrium, the promise and 
potency of every form and quality of life." To call it a 
" chorus of dissent," as my Catholic critic does, is a mild 
way of describing the storm of opprobrium w T ith which 
this statement has been assailed. But the first blast of 
passion being past, I hope I may again ask my opponents 
to consent to reason. First of all, I am blamed for cross- 
ing the boundary of the experimental evidence. I reply 
that this is the habitual action of the scientific mind — at 
least of that portion of it which applies itself to physical 
investigation. Our theories of light, heat, magnetism, and 
electricity, all imply the crossing of this boundary. My 
paper on the " Scientific Use of the Imagination " illus- 
trates this point in the amplest manner; and in the lecture 
appended to this Address I have sought, incidentally, to 
make clear how in physics the experiential incessantly 
leads to the ultra-experiential ; how out of experience 
there always grows something finer than mere experience 
and that in their different powers of ideal extension con- 
sists for the most part the difference between the great 
and the mediocre investigator. The kingdom of science, 
then, cometh not by observation and experiment alone, 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



18 



but is completed by fixing the roots of observation and 
experiment in a region inaccessible to both, and in dealing 
with whiph we are forced to fall back upon the picturing 
power of the mind. 

Passing the boundary of experience, therefore, does 
not, in the abstract, constitute a sufficient ground for cen- 
sure. There must have been something in my particular 
mode of crossing it which provoked this tremendous 
" chorus of dissent." 

Let us calmly reason the point out. I hold the nebular 
theory as it was held by Kant, Laplace, and William Her- 
schel, and as it is held by the best scientific intellects of 
to-day. According to it, our sun and planets were once 
diffused through space as an impalpable haze, out of which, 
by condensation, came the solar system. What caused the 
haze to condense ? Loss of heat. What rounded the sun 
and planets ? That which rounds a tear — molecular force. 
For aeons, the immensity of which overw r helms man's con- 
ceptions, the earth was unfit to maintain what we call life. 
It is now covered with visible living things. They are not 
formed of matter different from that of the earth around 
them. They are, on the contrary, bone of its bone and 
flesh of its flesh. How were they introduced ? Was life 
implicated in the nebulae — as part, it may be, of a vaster N 
and wholly Incomprehensible Life ; or is it the work of a 
Being standing outside the nebulae, who fashioned it as a ' 
potter does his clay, but whose own origin and ways are 
equally past finding out ? As far as the eye of science has 
hitherto ranged through Nature no intrusion of purely ere- c 
ativc power into any series of phenomena has ever been / 
observed. The assumption of such" a power to account for 
special phenomena has always proved a failure. It is op- 
posed to the very spirit of science, and I therefore assumed 
the responsibility of holding up in contrast with it that 
method of Nature which it -has been the vocation and tri- 



14 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



umph of science to disclose, and in the application of 
which we can alone hope for further light. Holding, then, 
that the nebulae and all subsequent life stand to each other 
in the relation of the germ to the finished organism, 
I reaffirm here, not arrogantly, or defiantly, but with- 
'out a shade of indistinctness, the position laid down in 
Belfast. 

Not with the vagueness belonging to the emotions, but 
with the definiteness belonging to the understanding, the 
scientific man has to put to himself these questions regard- 
ing the introduction of life upon the earth. He will be 
the last to dogmatize upon the subject, for he knows best 
that certainty is here for the present unattainable. His 
refusal of the creative hypothesis is less an assertion of 
knowledge than a protest against the assumption of knowl- 
edge which must long, if not forever, lie beyond us^ and the 
claim to which is the source of manifold confusion upon 
earth. With a mind open to conviction he asks his oppo- 
nents to show him an authority for the belief they so 
strenuously and so fiercely uphold. They can do no more 
than point to the Book of Genesis, or some other portion 
of the Bible. Profoundly interesting and indeed pathetic 
to me are those attempts of the opening mind of man to 
appease its hunger for a Cause. But the Book of Genesis 
has no voice in scientific questions. To the grasp of geol- 
i °EYj which it resisted for a time, it at length yielded like 
\ potter's clay ; its authority as a system of cosmogony be- 
ing discredited on all hands by the abandonment of the 
obvious meaning of its writer. It is a poem, not a scien- 
tific treatise. In the former aspect it is forever beautiful ; 
in the latter aspect it has been, and it will continue to be, 
purely obstructive and hurtful. To knowledge its value 
has been negative, leading, in rougher ages than ours, to 
physical, and even in our own " free " age, as exemplified 
in my own case, to moral violence. 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



15 



To th o student of cause and effect no incident con- 
nected with the proceedings at Belfast is more instructive 
than the deportment of the Catholic hierarchy of Ireland ; 
a body usually wise enough not to confer notoriety upon 
an adversary by imprudently denouncing him. The Times, 
to which I owe nothing on the score of sympathy, but a 
great deal on the score of fair play, where so much has 
been unfair, thinks that the Irish Cardinal, Archbishops, 
and Bishops, in their recent manifesto, promptly and 
adroitly employed a weapon which I, at an unlucky mo- 
ment, had placed in their hands. The antecedents of their 
action cause me to regard it in a different light ; and a 
brief reference to these antecedents will, I think, illumi- 
nate not only their proceedings regarding Belfast, but 
other doings which have been recently noised abroad. 

Before me lies a document, bearing the date of Novem- 
ber, 1873, but which, after appearing for a moment, unac- 
countably vanished from public view. It is a Memorial 
addressed by Seventy of the Students and Ex-students of 
the Catholic University in Ireland to the Episcopal Board 
of the University. This is the plainest and bravest re- 
monstrance ever addressed by Irish laymen to their spirit- 
ual pastors and masters. It expresses the profoundest dis- 
satisfaction with the curriculum marked out for the stu- 
dents of the University ; setting forth the extraordinary 
fact that the lecture-list for the faculty of Science, pub- 
lished a month before they wrote, did not contain the 
name of a single Professor of the Physical or Natural 
Sciences. 

The memorialists forcibly deprecate this, and dwell 
upon the necessity of education in Science. "The dis- 
tinguishing mrfrk of this age is its ardor for science. The 
natural sciences have, within the last fifty years, become 
the chiefest study in the world ; they are in our time 
pursued with an activity unparalleled in the history of man- 



16 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



kind. Scarce a year now passes without some discovery 
/ being made in these sciences which, as with the touch of 
a magician's wand, shivers to atoms theories formerly 
deemed unassailable. It is through the physical and nat- 
ural sciences that the fiercest assaults are now made on our 
religion. No more deadly weapon is used against our 
faith than the facts incontestably proved by modern re- 
searches in science." 

Such statements must be the reverse of comfortable 
to a number of gentlemen who, trained in the philosophy 
of Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas, have been ac- 
customed to the unquestioning submission of all other 
sciences to their divine science of Theology. But some- 
thing more remains : " One thing seems certain," say the 
memorialists, viz., " that if chairs for the physical and 
natural sciences be not soon founded in the Catholic Uni- 
versity, very many young 1 men will have their faith ex- 
posed to dangers which the creation of a school of science 
in the University would defend them from. For our gen- 
eration of Irish Catholics are writhing under the sense of 
their inferiority in science, and are determined that such 
inferiority shall not long continue ; and so, if scientific 
training be unattainable at our University, they will seek 
it at Trinity, or at the Queen's Colleges, in not one of 
which is there a Catholic professor of Science." 

Those who imagined the Catholic University at Ken- 
sington to be due to the spontaneous recognition on the 
part of the Roman hierarchy of the intellectual needs of 
the age, will derive enlightenment from this, and still more 
from what follows ; for the most formidable threat remains. 
To the picture of Catholic students seceding to Trinity 
and the Queen's Colleges, the memorialists add this dark- 
est stroke of all : " They will, in the solitude of their own 
homes, unaided by any guiding advice, devour the works 
of Hackel, Darwin, Huxley, Tyndall, and Lyell; works 



PEEFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



17 



innocuous if studied under a professor who would point 
out the difference between established facts and erroneous 
inferences, but which are calculated to sap the faith of a 
solitary student, deprived of a discriminating judgment 
to which he could refer for a solution of his difficulties." 

In the light of the knowledge given by this courageous 
memorial, and of similar knowledge otherwise derived, the 
recent Catholic manifesto did not at all strike me as a 
chuckle over the mistake of a maladroit adversary, but 
rather as an evidence of profound uneasiness on the part 
of the Cardinal, the Archbishops, and the Bishops w T ho 
signed it. They acted toward it, however, with their ac- 
customed practical wisdom. As one concession to the 
spirit which it embodied, the Catholic University at Ken- 
sington was brought forth, apparently as the effect of 
spontaneous inward force, and not of outward pressure 
which was rapidly becoming too formidable to be success- 
fully opposed. 

The memorialists point with bitterness to the fact that 
"the name of no Irish Catholic is known in connection 
with the physical and natural sciences." But this, thej^ 
ought to know, is the complaint of free and cultivated^ 
minds wherever the Priesthood exercises dominant powerjf 
Precisely the same complaint has been made with re-\ 
spect to the Catholics of Germany. The great national 
literature and scientific achievements of that country in 
modern times is almost wholly the work of Protestants ; a 
vanishingly small fraction of it only being derived from 
members of the Roman Church, although the number of 
these in Germany is at least as great as that of the Protes- 
tants. " The question arises," says a writer in a German 
periodical, " what is the cause of a phenomenon so hu- 
miliating to the Catholics ? It cannot be referred to want 
of natural endowment due to climate (for the Protestants 
of Southern Germany have contributed powerfully to the 



18 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



creations of the German intellect), but purely to outward 
circumstances. And these are readily discovered in the 
pressure exercised for centuries by the Jesuitical system, 
which has crushed out of Catholics every tendency to free 
mental productiveness." It is, indeed, in Catholic coun- 
tries that the weight of ultramontanism has been most se- 
verely felt. It is in such countries that the very finest 
spirits, who have dared, without quitting their faith, to 
plead for freedom or reform, have suffered extinction. 
The extinction, however, was more apparent than real, and 
Hermes, Hirscher, and Giinther, though individually bro- 
ken and subdued, prepared the way in Bavaria for the per- 
secuted but unflinching Frohschammer, for Dollinger, and 
for the remarkable liberal movement of which Dollinger is 
the head and guide. 

Though managed and moulded for centuries to an obe- 
dience unparalleled in any other country, except Spain, 
the Irish intellect is beginning to show signs of indepen- 
dence, demanding a diet more suited to its years than the 
pabulum of the Middle Ages. As for the recent mani- 
festo where Pope, Cardinal, Archbishops, and Bishops, 
may now be considered as united in one grand anathema, 
its character and fate are shadowed forth by the Vision of 
Nebuchadnezzar recorded in the Book of Daniel. It re- 
sembles the image, whose form was terrible, but the gold, 
and silver, and brass, and iron of which rested upon feet 
of clay. And a stone smote the feet of clay, and the iron, 
and the brass, and the silver, and the gold, were broken in 
pieces together, and became like the chaff of the summer 
threshing-floors, and the wind carried them away. 

There is something in Jesuitism profoundly interesting, 
and at the same time clearly intelligible, to men of strong 
intellects and determined will. The weaker spirits, of 
whom there arc many among us, it simply fascinates -and 
subdues. From the study of his own inward forces, and 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



19 



their possible misapplication, the really determined man 
can understand how possible it is, having once chosen an 
aim, to reach it in defiance of every moral restraint — to 
trample under foot, by an obstinate effort of volition, the 
dictates of honesty, honor, mercy, and truth ; and to pur- 
sue the desired end, if need be, through their destruction. 
This force of will, relentlessly applied, and working through 
submissive instruments, is the strength of Jesuitism. 

Pure, honest fanaticism often adds itself to this force, 
and sometimes acts as its equivalent. Illustrations of this 
are not far to seek, for the dazzling prize of England, con- 
verted to the true faith, is sufficient to turn weak heads. 
When it is safely caged it is interesting to watch the oper- 
ations of this form of energy. In a sermon on the Perpet- 
ual Office of the Council of Trent, preached before the 
Right Reverend Fathers assembled in Synod, the Arch- 
bishop of "Westminster has given us the following sample 
of it : " As the fourth century was glorious by the defini- 
tion of the Godhead and the Consubtantial Son, and the 
fifth by that of His two perfect natures, and the thirteenth 
by that of the Procession of the Holy Ghost, so the nine- 
teenth will be glorious by the definition of the Immaculate 
Conception. . Right Rev. Fathers," continues this Tieated 
proselyte, " you have to call the legionaries and the trib- 
unes, the patricians and the people, of a conquering race, 
and to subdue, change, and transform them one by one to 
the likeness of the Son of God. Surely a soldier's eye and 
a soldier's heart would choose by intuition this field of 
England for the warfare of the faith. It is the head of 
Protestantism, the centre of its movements, and the strono*- 
hold of its powers. Weakened in England, it is paralyzed 
everywhere ; conquered in England, it is conquered through- 
out the world. Once overthrown here, all is but a war of 
detail : it is the key of the whole position of modern error." 
This is the propaganda which England has to stem. What 



20 PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



mere stubble a dilettante ritualist or a weak-headed noble- 
man must be when acted upon by this fiery breath of fanat- 
icism ! The only wonder is that weak heads, w T hich are so 
assiduously and deliberately sought out, are not more plen- 
tiful than they are. 

Monsignor Capel has recently been good enough to 
proclaim at once the friendliness of his Church toward true 
science, and her right to determine what true science is. 
Let us dwell for a moment on the historic proofs of her 
scientific competence. When Halley's comet appeared in 
1456, it was regarded as the harbinger of God's vengeance, 
the dispenser of war, pestilence, and famine, and, by order 
of the Pope, all the church-bells of Europe were rung to 
scare the monster away. An additional daily prayer was 
added to the supplications of the faithful. The comet in 
due time disappeared, and the faithful were comforted by 
the assurance that, as in previous instances relating to 
eclipses, droughts, and rains, so also as regards this " ne- 
farious " comet, victory had been vouchsafed to the Church. 

Both Pythagoras and Copernicus had taught the helio- 
centric doctrine — that the earth revolved round the sun. 
In the exercise of her right to determine what true science 
is, the Church, in the Pontificate of Paul V., stepped in, 
and, by the mouth of the holy Congregation of the Index, 
delivered, on March 5, 1616, the following decree : 

And whereas it hath also come to the knowledge of the 
said holy congregation that the false Pythagorean doc- 
trine of the mobility of the earth and the immobility of 
the sun, entirely opposed to Holy 'Writ, which is taught by 
Nicolas Copernicus, is now published abroad and received 
by many — in order that this opinion may not further 
spread, to the damage of Catholic truth, it is ordered that 
this and all other books teaching the Wee doctrine be sus- 
pended, and by this decree they are all respectively sus- 
pended, forbidden, and condemned. 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



21 



Though often quoted, I thought the never-dying flavor 
of this celebrated decree would not be disagreeable to 
some of my readers. It is pleasant to be able to say that 
the very doctrine here pronounced " false," " opposed to 
Holy Writ," and " damaging to Catholic truth," Science 
has persuaded even Monsignor Capel to accept. 

But it is a constant tendency rather than a single fact 
which is chiefly important here, and a few jottings will 
show with sufficient plainness what this tendency has ever 
been. The fate of Giordano Bruno is referred to in the 
following pages. For a further reference to him I would 
direct the reader to the brief Appendix introduced at page 
66. The case of Galileo is also touched upon; and to this 
it may be added here that he died the prisoner of the 
Inquisition, which, true to its instincts, followed him 
beyond the grave, disputing his right to make a will, and 
denying him burial in consecrated ground. 1 

Again, the famous Academia del Cimento was estab- 
lished at Florence in 1657, and held its meetings in the 
ducal palace. It lasted ten years, and was then suppressed 
at the instance of the Papal Government. As an equiva- 
lent, the brother of the Grand-Duke was made a cardinal. 
The Jesuits were less successful in Bavaria in 1759 ; for 
they did their best, but vainly, to prevent the founding of 
the Academy of Sciences in Munich. Their waning power 
was indicated by this fact, and in 1773 Pope Clement XIV. 
dissolved the order. The decree was to be " irrevocable ; " 
the Society of Jesus was " never to be restored ; " still, in 
1814, an infallible follower of Clement, Pope Pius VII., 
undid the work of his equally infallible predecessor, and 
revoked his decree. 

But why go back to 1456? Far be it from me to 
charge by-gone sins upon Monsignor Capel's Church, were 



1 Draper, « Trial of Galileo." 



22 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



it not for her practices to-day. The most applauded dog- 
matist of the Jesuits is, I am informed, Perrone. Thirty 
editions of a work of his have been scattered abroad in all 
lands by the Society to which he belongs. His notions of 
physical astronomy are quite in accordance with those of 
1456. He teaches boldly that " God does not rule by 
universal law .... that when God [obviously a Big 
Man] orders a given planet to stand still he does not 
detract from any law passed by himself, but orders that 
planet to move round the sun for such and such a time, 
then to stand still, and then again to move, as his pleasure 
may be." Jesuitism proscribed Frohschammer for ques- 
tioning its favorite dogma that every human soul was 
created by a direct supernatural act of God, and for assert- 
ing that man, body and soul, came from his parents. This 
is the Society that now strives for universal power; it is 
from it, as Monsignor Capel graciously informs us, that 
we are to learn what is allowable in science and what 
is not ! 

In the face of such facts, which might be multiplied 
at will, it requires extraordinary bravery of mind, or a 
reliance upon public ignorance almost as extraordinary, 
to make the claims made by Monsignor Capel for his 
Church. 

A German author, speaking of one who has had bitter 
experience in this line, describes those Catholic writers 
who refuse to submit to the Congregation of the Index as 
outlawed ; fair subjects for moral assassination. 1 This is 
very strong ; and still, judging from my own small experi- 

1 See the case of Frohschammer as sketched by a friend in the Pref- 
ace to " Christenthum und die moderne Wissenschaft." His enemies 
contrived to take his bread, in great part, away, but they failed to sub- 
due him, and not even the Pope's Nuncio could prevent five hundred 
students of the University of Munich from signing an Address to their 
Professor. 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. # 23 

ence, not too strong. In reference to this point I would 
ask indulgence for a brief personal allusion here. It will 
serve a twofold object, one of which will be manifest, the 
other being reserved for possible future reference. Sprung 
from a source to which the Bible was specially clear, my 
early training was confined almost exclusively to it. Born 
in Ireland, I, like my predecessors for many generations, 
was taught to hold my own against the Church of Rome. 
I had a father whose memory ought to be to me a stay, 
and an example of unbending rectitude and purity of life. 
The small stock to which he belonged were scattered with 
various fortunes along that eastern rim of Leinster, from 
Wexford upward, to which they crossed from the Bristol 
Channel. My father was the poorest of them. Still, in his 
socially low but mentally and morally independent position, 
by his own inner energies and affinities, he obtained a knowl- 
edge of history which would put mine to shame ; while 
the whole of the controversy between Protestantism and 
Romanism was at his fingers' ends. At the present moment 
the works and characters which occupied him come, as 
far-off recollections, to my mind : Claude and Bossuet, 
Chillingworth and Nott, Tillotson, Jeremy Taylor, Chal- 
loner and Milner, Pope and McGuire, and others whom I 
have forgotten, or whom it is needless to name. Still this 
man, so charged with the ammunition of -controversy, was 
so respected by his Catholic fellow-townsmen, that they 
one and all put up their shutters when he died. 

With such a preceptor, and with an hereditary interest 
in the Papal controversy, I naturally mastered it. I did 
not confine myself to the Protestant statement of the 
question, but made myself also acquainted with the argu- 
ments of the Church of Rome. I remember to this hour 
the interest and surprise with wdiich I read Challoner's 
" Catholic Christian Instructed," and on the border-line 
between boyhood and manhood I was to be found taking 



24 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



part in controversies in which the rival faiths were pitted 
against each other. I sometimes took the Catholic side, 
and gave my Protestant antagonist considerable trouble. 
The views of Irish Catholics became thus intimately known 
to me, and there was no doctrine of Protestantism which 
they more emphatically rejected, and the ascription of 
which to them they resented more warmly, than the doc- 
trine of the Pope's personal infallibility. Yet in the face 
of this knowledge it was obstinately asserted and reassert- 
ed in my presence some time ago, by a Catholic priest, 
that the doctrine of the infallibility of the Pope had al- 
ways been maintained in Ireland. 1 

But this is an episode, intended to disabuse those who, 
in this country or the United States, may have been misled 
in regard to the personal points referred to. I now return 
to the impersonal. The course of life upon earth, as far 
as Science can see, has been one of amelioration — a steady 
advance on the whole from the lower to the higher. The 
continued effort of animated Nature is to improve its 
conditions and raise itself to a loftier level. In man 
improvement and amelioration depend largely upon the 
growth of conscious knowledge, by which the errors of 
ignorance are continually moulted and truth is organized. 
It is assuredly the advance of knowledge that has given a 
materialistic color to the philosophy of this age. Mate- 
rialism is therefore not a thing to be mourned over, but 
to be honestly considered — accepted if it be wholly true, 
rejected if it be wholly false, wisely sifted and turned to 
account if it embrace a mixture of truth and error. Of 
late years the study of the nervous system and of its re- 

1 On a memory which dates back to my fifteenth year, when I first 
read the discussion between Mr. Pope and Father McGuire, I should be 
inclined to rely for proof that the Catholic clergyman, in that discussion, 
and in the name of his Church, repudiated the doctrine of personal in- 
fallibility. 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



25 



lation to thought and feeling has profoundly occupied in- 
quiring minds. It is our duty not to shirk — it ought rather 
to be our privilege to accept — the established results of 
such inquiries, for here assuredly our ultimate weal de- 
pends upon our loyalty to the truth. Instructed as to the 
control which the nervous system exercises over man's 
moral and intellectual nature, we shall be better prepared, 
not only to mend their manifold defects, but also to 
strengthen and purify both. Is mind degraded by this 
recognition of its dependence ? Assuredly not. Matter, 
on the contrary, is raised to the level it ought to occupy, 
and from which timid ignorance w^ould remove it. 

But the light is dawning, and it will become stronger 
as time goes on. Even the Brighton Congress affords evi- 
dence of this. From the manifold confusions of that assem- 
blage my memory has rescued two items which it w T ould 
fain preserve : the recognition of a relation between Health 
and Religion, and the address of the Rev. Harry Jones. 
Out of the conflict of vanities his words emerge fresh, 
healthy, and strong, because undrugged by dogma, coming 
directly from the warm brain of one who* knows what prac- 
tical truth means, and who has faith in its vitality and in- 
herent power of propagation. I wonder is he less effectual 
in his ministry than his more embroidered colleagues ? It 
surely behooves our teachers to come to some definite un- 
derstanding as to this question of health ; to see how, by 
inattention to it, we are defrauded, negatively and posi- 
tively : negatively, by the privation of that "sweetness 
and light " which is the natural concomitant of good health ; 
positively, by the insertion into life of cynicism, ill-temper, 
and a thousand corroding anxieties w^hich good health 
would dissipate. We fear and scorn " materialism." But 
he who knew all about it, and could apply his knowledge, 
might become the preacher of a new gospel. Not, how- 
ever, through the ecstatic moments of the individual docs 
2 



26 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



such knowledge come, but through the revelations of sci- 
ence, in connection with the history of mankind. 

Why should the Reman Catholic Church call gluttony 
a mortal sin ? Why should prayer and fasting occupy a 
place in the disciplines of religion ? What is the meaning 
of Luther's advice to the young clergyman who came to 
him, perplexed with the difficulty of predestination and 
election, if it be not that, in virtue of its action upon the 
brain, when wisely applied, there is moral and religious 
virtue even in a hydro-carbon ? To use the old language, 
food and drink are creatures of God, and have therefore a 
spiritual value. The air of the Alps would be augmented 
tenfold in purifying powder if this truth w T ere recognized. 
Through our neglect of the monitions of a reasonable ma- 
terialism we sin and suffer daily. I might here point to 
the train of deadly disorders over which science has given 
modern society such control — disclosing the lair of the ma- 
terial enemy, insuring his destruction, and thus preventing 
that moral squalor and hopelessness which habitually tread 
on the heels of epidemics in the case of the poor. 

Rising to higher spheres, the visions of Sw T edenborg, 
and the ecstasy of Plotinus and Porphyry, are phases of 
that psychical condition, obviously connected with the ner- 
vous system and state of health, on which is based the 
Vedic doctrine of the absorption of the individual into the 
universal soul. Plotinus taught the devout how to pass 
into a condition of ecstasy. Porphyry complains of hav- 
ing been only once united to God in eighty-six years, 
while his master Plotinus had been so united six times in 
sixty years. 1 A friend w 7 ho knew Wordsw^orth informs me 
that the poet, in some of his moods, was accustomed to 
seize hold of an external object to assure himself of his 
own bodily existence. The " entranced mind " of Mr. 

1 See Dr. Draper's important work, " Conflict between Religion and 
Science." 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



27 



Page-Roberts, referred to so admiringly by the Specta- 
tor, is a similar phenomenon. No one, I should say, has 
had a wider experience in this field than Mr. Emerson. As 
states of consciousness those phenomena have an undis- 
puted reality, and a substantial identity. They are, how- 
ever, connected with the most heterogeneous objective 
conceptions. Porphyry wrote against Christianity; Mr. 
Page-Roberts is a devout Christian. But notwithstanding 
the utter discordance of these objective conceptions, their 
subjective experiences are similar, because of the similarity 
of their finely-strung nervous organizations. 

But admitting the practical facts, and acting on them, 
there will always remain ample room for speculation. 
Take the argument of the Lucretian introduced at page 28 
of the following Address. As far as I am aware, not one 
of my assailants has attempted to answer it. Some of 
them, indeed, rejoice over the ability displayed by Bishop 
Butler in rolling back a difficulty on his opponent ; and 
they even imagine that it is the Bishop's own argument 
that is there employed. Instructed by self-knowledge, 
they can hardly credit me with the wish to state both sides 
of the question at issue ; and to show" by a logic stronger 
than Butler ever used the overthrow which awaits any 
doctrine of materialism which is based upon the definitions 
of matter habitually received. But the raising of a new 
difficulty does not abolish — does not even lessen — the old 
one, and the argument of the Lucretian remains untouched 
by any thing the Bishop has said or can say. 

And here it may be permitted me to add a word to an 
important controversy now going on. In an article on 
Physics and Metaphysics, published in the Saturday He- 
view more than fourteen years ago, I ventured to state 
thus the relation between physics and consciousness : 
" The philosophy of the future will assuredly take more ac- 
count than that of the past of the relation of thought and 



28 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



feeling to physical processes ; and it may be that the qual- 
ities of Mind will be studied through the organism as we 
now study the character of Force through the affections 
of ordinary matter. We believe that every thought and 
every feeling has its definite mechanical correlative in the 
nervous system — that it is accompanied by a certain sepa- 
ration and remarshaling of the atoms of the brain. 

" This latter process is purely physical ; and were the 
faculties we now possess sufficiently strengthened, without 
the creation of any new faculty, it would doubtless be 
within the range of our augmented powers to infer from 
the molecular state of the brain the character of the 
thought acting upon it, and, conversely, to infer from the 
thought the exact corresponding molecular condition of the 
brain. We do not say — and this, as will be seen, is all- 
important — that the inference here referred to would be an 
a priori one. What we say is that by observing, with 
the faculties we assume, the state of the brain, and the as- 
sociated mental affections, both might be so tabulated side 
by side, that if one were given, a mere reference to the 
table would declare the other. 

" Given the masses of the planets and their distances 
asunder, and we can infer the perturbations consequent on 
their mutual attractions. Given the nature of a disturb- 
ance in water, air, or ether, and from the physical proper- 
ties of the medium we can infer how its particles will be 
affected. The mind runs along the line of thought which 
connects the phenomena, and, from beginning to end, finds 
no break in the chain. But, when we endeavor to pass by 
a similar process from the phenomena of physics to those 
of thought, we meet a problem which transcends any con- 
ceivable expansion of the powers we now possess. We 
may think over the subject again and again — it eludes all 
intellectual presentation — we stand, at length, face to face 
with the Incomprehensible." 



. PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 29 

The discussion above referred to turns on the ques- 
tion : Do states of consciousness enter as links in the chain 
of antecedence and sequence which give rise to bodily 
actions and to other states of consciousness ; or are they 
merely by-products, which are not essential to the physical 
processes going on in the brain ? Now, it is perfectly cer- 
tain that we have no power of imagining states of con- 
sciousness interposed between the molecules of the brain, 
and influencing the transference of motion among the mole- 
cules. The thought "eludes all mental presentation;" 
and hence the logic seems of iron strength which claims 
for the brain an automatic action, uninfluenced by states 
of consciousness. But it is, I believe, admitted by those 
who hold the automaton-theory that states of conscious- 
ness are produced by the marshaling of the molecules of 
the brain ; and this production of consciousness by molecu- 
lar motion is certainly quite as unthinkable as the produc- 
tion of molecular motion by consciousness. If, therefore, 
unthinkability be the proper test, we must equally reject 
both classes of phenomena, I, for my part, reject neither, 
and thus stand in the presence of two Ineomprehensibles, 
instead of one Incomprehensible. While accepting fear- 
lessly the facts of materialism dwelt upon in these pages, 
I bow my head in the dust before that nrystery of the 
brain, which has hitherto defied its own penetrative power, 
and which may ultimately resolve itself into a demonstra- 
ble impossibility of self-penetration. 1 

But, whatever be the fate of theor}^, the practical moni- 
tions are plain enough, which declare that on our dealings 
with matter depends our weal or woe, physical and moral. 
The state of mind which rebels against the recognition of 
the claims of " materialism " is not unknown to me. I can 
remember a time when I regarded my body as a w r eed, so 
much more highly did I prize the conscious strength and 
1 -See Appendix, "Scientific Materialism." 



30 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



pleasure derived from moral and religious feeling, which, I 
may add, was mine without the intervention of dogma. 
The error was not an ignoble one, but this did not save 
it from the penalty attached to error. Saner knowledge 
taught me that the body is no weed, and that if it were 
treated as such it would infallibly avenge itself. Am I 
personally lowered by this change of front? Not so. 
Give me their health, and there is no spiritual experience 
of those earlier years — no resolve of duty, or work of 
mercy, no act of self-denial, no solemnity of thought, no 
joy in the life and aspects of Nature, that would not still 
be mine. And this without the least reference or regard 
to any purely personal reward or punishment looming in 
the future. 

As I close these remarks, the latest melancholy wail 
of the Bishop of Peterborough reaches my ears. Not- 
withstanding all their " expansiveness," both he and his 
brother of ^VEanch ester appear, alas ! to know as little of the 
things which belong to our peace as that wild ritualist 
who, a day or two ago, raised the cry of " excommuni- 
cated heretic ! " against the Bishop of Natal. Happily 
we have among us our Jowetts and our Stanleys, not to 
mention other brave men, who see more clearly the char- 
acter and magnitude of the coming struggle ; and who be- 
lieve undoubtingly that out of it the truths of science will 
emerge with healing in their wings. Such men must in- 
crease, if the vast material resources of the Church of 
England are not to fall into the hands of persons who may 
be classed under the respective heads of weak and infatu- 
ated. 

And now I have to utter a " farewell," free from bit- 
terness, to all my readers — thanking my friends for a sym- 
pathy more steadfast, I would fain believe, if less noisy, 
than the antipathy of my foes ; commending to these, 
moreover, a passage from Bishop Butler, which they have 



PREFACE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 



31 



either not read or failed to take to heart. " It seems," saith 
the Bishop, " that men would be strangely headstrong and 
self-willed, and disposed to exert themselves with an im- 
petuosity which would render society insupportable, and 
the living in it impracticable, were it not for some acquired 
moderation and self-government, some aptitude and readi- 
ness in restraining themselves, and concealing their sense 
of things." In this respect, at least, his Grace the Arch- 
bishoj) of Canterbury has set a good example. 



Athenaeum Club, 

December 5, 1874. 



John Tyndall. 



PRE FACE. 



At the request of my publishers, strengthened by the 
expressed desire of many correspondents, I reprint, with a 
few slight alterations, this Address, 

It was written under some disadvantages this year in 
the Alps, and sent by installments to the printer. When 
read subsequently it proved too long for its purpose, and 
several of its passages were accordingly struck out. Some 
of them are here restored. 

It has provoked an unexpected amount of criticism. 
This, in due time, will subside ; and I confidently look 
forward to a calmer future for a verdict, founded not on 
imaginary sins, but on the real facts of the case. 

Of the numberless strictures and accusations, some of 
them exceeding fierce, of which I have been, and continue 
to be, the object, I refrain from speaking at any length. 
To one or two of them, however, out of respect for their 
sources, I would ask permission briefly to refer. 

An evening paper of the first rank, after the ascription 
of various more or less questionable aims and motives, 
proceeds to the imputation that I permitted the cheers of 
my audience to " stimulate" me to the utterance of words 
which no right-minded man, without a sense of the gravest 
responsibility, could employ. I trust the author of this 
charge will allow me in all courtesy to assure him that the 



34 



PREFACE. 



words ascribed by him to the spur of the moment were 
written in Switzerland ; that they stood in the printed copy 
of the Address from which I read; that they evoked no 
" cheers," but a silence far more impressive than cheers ; 
and that, finally, as regards both approbation and the 
reverse, my course had been thought over and decided 
long before I ventured to address a Belfast audience. 

A writer in a most able theological journal represents 
me as " patting religion on the back." The thought of 
doing so is certainly his, not mine. The facts of religious 
feeling are to me as certain as the facts of physics. But 
the world, I hold, will have to distinguish between the 
feeling and its forms, and to vary the latter in accordance 
with the intellectual condition of the age. 

I am unwilling to dwell upon statements ascribed to 
eminent men, which may be imperfectly reported in the 
newspapers, and I therefore pass over a recent sermon at- 
tributed to the Bishop of Manchester with the remark, 
that one engaged so much as he is in busy and, I doubt 
not on the whole, beneficent outward life, is not likely to 
be among the earliest to discern the more inward and 
spiritual signs of the times, or to prepare for the condition 
which they foreshadow. 

In a recent speech at Dewsbury, the Dean of Manches- 
ter is reported to have expressed himself thus : " The 
professor" (myself) "ended a most remarkable and elo- 
quent speech by terming himself a material atheist." My 
attention was drawn to Dean Cowie's statement by a 
correspondent, who described it as standing " conspicuous 
among the strange calumnies " with which my words have 
been assailed. For myself I use no language which could 
imply that I am hurt by such attacks. They have lost 
their power to wound or injure. So likewise as regards 
a resolution recently passed by the Presbytery of Belfast, 
in which Prof. Huxley and myself are spoken of as 



PREFACE. 



35 



" ignoring the existence of God, and advocating pure and 
simple materialism ; " had the possessive pronoun "our" 
preceded u God," and had the words " what we consider " 
preceded " pure," this statement would have been objec- 
tively true; but to make it so this qualification is required. 

Cardinal Cullen, I am told, is also actively engaged in 
erecting spiritual barriers against the intrusion of " infi- 
delity " into Ireland. His eminence, I believe, has rea- 
son to suspect that the Catholic youth around him are not 
proof to the seductions of science. Strong as he is, I 
believe him to be impotent here. The youth of Ireland 
will imbibe science, however slowly; they will be leav- 
ened by it, however gradually. And to its inward modi- 
fying power among Catholics themselves, rather than to 
any Protestant propagandism, or other external influence, 
I look for the abatement of various incongruities ; among 
them, of those mediaeval proceedings which, to the scan- 
dal and amazement of our nineteenth-century intelligence, 
have been revived among us during the last tw r o years. 

In connection with the charge of atheism, I would 
make one remark. Christian men are proved by their 
writings to have their hours of weakness and of doubt, as 
well as their hours of strength and of conviction ; and 
men like myself share, in their own way, these variations 
of mood and tense. Were the religious views of many of 
my assailants the only alternative ones, I do not know 
how strong the claims of the doctrine of " material athe- 
ism " upon my allegiance might be. Probably they would 
be very strong. But, as it is, I have noticed during years 
of self-observation that it is not in hours of clearness and 
vigor that this doctrine commends itself to my mind ; that 
in the presence of stronger and healthier thought it ever 
dissolves and disappears, as offering no solution of the 
mystery in which we dwell, and of winch we form a part. 

To coarser attacks and denunciations I pay no atten- 



36 



PREFACE. 



tion ; nor have I any real reason to complain of revilings 
addressed to me, which professing Christians, as could 
readily be proved, do not scruple to use toward each other. 
The more agreeable task remains to me of thanking those 
who have tried, however hopelessly, to keep accusation 
within the bounds of justice, and who, privately, and at 
some risk in public, have honored me with the expression 
of their sympathy and approval. 

JOHN TYNDALL. 

Athenaeum Club, ) 
September 15, 1874. ) 



ADDEESS. 



An impulse inherent in primeval man turned his 
thoughts and questionings betimes toward the sources of 
natural phenomena. The same impulse, inherited and in- 
tensified, is the spur of scientific action to-day. Deter- 
mined by it, by a process of abstraction from experience 
we form physical theories which lie beyond the pale of ex- 
perience, but which satisfy the desire of the mind to see 
every natural occurrence resting upon a cause. In form- 
ing their notions of the origin of things, our earliest his- 
toric (and doubtless, we might add, our prehistoric) ances- 
tors pursued, as far as their intelligence permitted, the 
same course. They also fell back upon experience, but 
with this difference — that the particular experiences which 
furnished the weft and woof of their theories were drawn, 
not from the study of Nature, but from what lay much 
closer to them, the observation of men. Their theories 
accordingly took an anthropomorphic form. To supersen- 
sual beings, which, "however potent and invisible, were 
nothing but a species of human creatures, perhaps raised 
from among mankind, and retaining all human passions 
and appetites," 1 were handed over the rule and gover- 
nance of natural phenomena. 

Tested by observation and reflection, these early no- 
tions failed in the long-run to satisfy the more penetrating 

1 Hume, "Natural History of Religion." 



38 



PROFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



intellects of our race. Far in the depths of history we 
find men of exceptional power differentiating themselves 
from the crowd, rejecting ' these anthropomorphic notions, 
and seeking to connect natural phenomena with their phys- 
ical principles. But long prior to these purer efforts of 
the understanding the merchant had been abroad, and 
rendered the philosopher possible ; commerce had been 
developed, wealth amassed, leisure for travel and specula- 
tion secured, while races educated under different condi- 
tions, and therefore differently informed and endowed, 
had been stimulated and sharpened by mutual contact. 
In those regions where the commercial aristocracy of an- 
cient Greece mingled with its Eastern neighbors, the 
sciences were born, being nurtured and developed by free- 
thinking and courageous men. The state of things to be 
displaced may be gathered from a passage of Euripides 
quoted by Hume : " There is nothing m the world ; no 
glory, no prosperity. The gods toss all into confusion ; 
mix every thing with its reverse, that all of us, from our 
ignorance and uncertainty, may pay them the more wor- 
ship and reverence." Now, as science demands the radi- 
cal extirpation of caprice and the absolute reliance upon 
law in Nature, there grew with the growth of scientific 
notions a desire and determination to sweep from the field 
of theory this mob of gods and demons, and to place 
natural phenomena on a basis more congruent with them- 
selves. 

The problem which had been previously approached 
from above was now attacked from below ; theoretic effort 
passed from the super- to the sub-sensible. It was felt 
that to construct the universe in idea it was necessary to 
have some notion of its constituent parts — of what Lucre- 
tius subsequently called the " First Beginnings." Ab- 
stracting again from experience, the leaders of scientific 
speculation reached at length the pregnant doctrine of 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



39 



atoms and molecules, the latest developments of which 
were set forth with such power and clearness at the last 
meeting of the British Association. Thought, no doubt, 
had long hovered about this doctrine before it attained 
the precision and completeness which it assumed in the 
mind of Democritus, 1 a philosopher who may w T ell for a 
moment arrest our attention. " Few great men," says 
Lange, a non-materialist, in his excellent " History of 
Materialism," to the spirit and to the letter of which I am 
equally indebted, " have been so despitefully used by his- 
tory as Democritus. In the distorted images sent down 
to us through unscientific traditions there remains of him 
almost nothing but the name of fi the laughing philoso- 
pher,' while figures of immeasurably smaller significance 
spread themselves out at full length before us." Lange 
speaks of Bacon's high appreciation of Democritus — for 
ample illustrations of which I am indebted to my excellent 
friend Mr. Spedding, the learned editor and biographer of 
Bacon. It is evident, indeed, that Bacon considered 
Democritus to be a man of weightier metal than either 
Plato or Aristotle, though their philosophy " was noised 
and celebrated in the schools, amid the din and pomp of 
professors." It was not they, but Genseric and Attila and 
the barbarians, who destroyed the atomic philosophy. 
66 For, at a time w T hen all human learning had suffered ship- 
wreck, these planks of Aristotelian and Platonic philosophy, 
as being of a lighter and more inflated substance, w r ere 
preserved and came down to us, while things more solid 
sank and almost passed into oblivion." 

The son of a wealthy father, Democritus devoted the 
wdiole of his inherited fortune to the culture of his mind. 
He traveled everywhere; visited Athens when Socrates 
and Plato were there, but quitted the city without making 
himself known. Indeed, the dialectic strife in which Soc- 
1 Born 460 b. c. 



40 



PROFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



rates so much delighted had no charms for Democritus, 
who held that " the man who readily contradicts and uses 
many words is unfit to learn any thing truly right." He 
is said to have discovered and educated Protagoras the 
sophist, being struck as much by the manner in which he, 
being a hewer of wood, tied up his fagots, as by the 
sagacity of his conversation. Democritus returned poor 
from his travels, was supported by his brother, and at 
length wrote his great work entitled " Diakosmos," which 
he read publicly before the people of his native town. 
He was honored by his countrymen in various ways, and 
died serenely at a great age. 

The principles enunciated by Democritus reveal his 
uncompromising antagonism to those who deduced the 
phenomena of Nature from the caprices of the gods. They 
are briefly these: 1. From nothing comes nothing. 
Nothing that exists can be destroyed. All changes are 
due to the combination and separation of molecules. 2. 
Nothing happens by chance. Every occurrence has its 
cause from which it follows by necessity. 3. The only 
existing things are the atoms and empty space ; all else 
is mere opinion. 4. The atoms are infinite in number and 
infinitely various in form; they strike together, and the 
lateral motion and whirlings which thus arise are the be- 
ginnings of worlds. 5. The varieties of all things depend 
upon the varieties of their atoms, in number, size, and ag- 
gregation. 6. The soul consists of fine, smooth, round 
atoms, like those of fire. These are the most mobile of all. 
They interpenetrate the whole body, and in their motions 
the phenomena of life arise. The first five propositions 
are a fair general statement of the atomic philosophy, as 
now held. As regards the sixth, Democritus made his 
fine smooth atoms do duty for the nervous system, whose 
functions were then unknown. The atoms of Democritus 
are individually without sensation ; they combine in obedi- 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



41 



ence to mechanical laws ; and not only organic forms, but 
the phenomena of sensation and thought, are the result of 
their combination. 

That great enigma, " the exquisite adaptation of one 
part of an organism to another part, and to the conditions 
of life," more especially the construction of the human 
body, Democritus made no attempt to solve. Empedocles, 
a man of more fiery and poetic nature, introduced the no- 
tion of love and hate among the atoms to account for 
their combination and separation. Noticing this gap in 
the doctrine of Democritus, he struck in with the pene- 
trating thought, linked, however, with some wild specula- 
tion, that it lay in the very nature of those combinations 
which were suited to their ends (in other words, in har- 
mony with their environment) to maintain themselves, while 
unfit combinations, having no proper habitat, must rapidly 
disappear. Thus more than two thousand years ago the 
doctrine of the " survival of the fittest," which in our day, 
not on the basis of vague conjecture, but of positive knowl- 
edge, has been raised to such extraordinary significance, 
had received at all events partial enunciation. 1 

Epicurus, 2 said to be the son of a poor school-master at 
Samos, is the next dominant figure in the history of the 
atomic philosophy. He mastered the writings of Democ- 
ritus, heard lectures in Athens, went back to Samos, and 
subsequently wandered through various countries. He 
finally returned to Athens, where he bought a garden, and 
surrounded himself by pupils, in the midst of whom he 
lived a pure and serene life, and died a peaceful death. 
Democritus looked to the soul as the ennobling part of 
man ; even beauty without understanding partook of ani- 
malism. Epicurus also rated the spirit above the body ; 
the pleasure of the body was that of the moment, while 
the spirit could draw upon the future and the past. His 

1 Langc, second edition, p. 23. 3 Born 312 b. c. 



42 PROFESSOR TYNDALLrS 

philosophy was almost identical with that of Democritus ; 
but he never quoted either friend or foe. One main object 
of Epicurus was to free the world from superstition and 
the fear of death. Death he treated with indifference. It 
merely robs us of sensation. As long as we are, death is 
not ; and, when death is, we are not. Life has no more 
evil for him who has made up his mind that it is no evil 
not to live. He adored the gods, but not in the ordinary 
fashion. The idea of divine power, properly purified, he 
thought an elevating one. Still he taught, " Not he is 
godless who rejects the gods of the crowd, but rather he 
who accepts them." The gods were to him eternal and 
immortal beings, whose blessedness excluded every thought 
of care or occupation of any kind. Nature pursues her 
course in accordance with everlasting laws, the gods never 
interfering. They haunt 

" The lucid interspace of world and world 
Where never creeps a cloud or moves a wind, 
Nor ever falls the least white star of snow, 
Nor ever lowest roll of thunder moans, 
Nor sound of human sorrow mounts to mar 
Their sacred everlasting calm." 1 

Lange considers the relation of Epicurus to the gods 
subjective ; the indication probably of an ethical require- 
ment of his own nature. We cannot read history with 
open eyes, or study human nature to its depths, and fail to 
discern such a requirement. Man never has been, and 
he never will be, satisfied with the operations and products 
of the understanding alone ; hence physical science can- 
not cover all the demands of his nature. But the history 
of the efforts made to satisfy these demands might be 
broadly described as a history of errors — the error, in great 
part, consisting in ascribing fixity to that which is fluent, 
which varies as we vary, being gross when we are gross, 
1 Tenn) r son , s " Lucretius." 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



43 



and becoming, as our capacities widen, more abstract and 
sublime. On one great point the mind of Epicurus was 
at peace. He neither sought nor expected, here or here- 
after, any personal profit from his relation to the gods. 
And it is assuredly a fact that loftiness and serenity of 
thought may be promoted by conceptions which involve 
no idea of profit of this kind. "Did I not believe," said 
a great man to me once, " that an Intelligence is at the 
heart of things, my life on earth would be intolerable." 
The utterer of these words is not, in my opinion, ren- 
dered less noble but more noble by the fact that it was the 
need of ethical harmony here, and not the thought of per- 
sonal profit, hereafter, that prompted his observation. 

There are persons, not belonging to the highest intel- 
lectual zone, nor yet to the lowest, to whom perfect clear- 
ness of exposition suggests want of depth. They find 
comfort and edification in an abstract and learned phrase- 
ology. To some such r^eople Epicurus, who spared no 
pains to rid his style of every trace of haze and turbidity, 
appeared, on this very account, superficial. He had, how- 
ever, a disciple who thought it no unworthy occupation to 
spend his days and nights in the effort to reach the clear- 
ness of his master, and to whom the Greek philosopher is 
mainly indebted for the extension and perpetuation of his 
fame. A century and a half after the death of Epicurus, 
Lucretius 1 wrote his great poem, u On the Nature of 
Things," in which he, a Roman, developed with extraordi- 
nary ardor the philosophy of his Greek predecessor. He 
wishes to win over his friend Memnius to the school of 
Epicurus ; and, although he has no rewards in a future life 
to olfer, although his object appears to be a purely nega- 
tive one, he addresses his friend with the heat of an apos- 
tle. His object, like that of his great forerunner* is the 
destruction of superstition ; and considering that men 

1 Born 99 b. c. 



44 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S 



trembled before every natural event as a direct monition 
from the gods, and that everlasting torture was also ii\ 
prospect, the freedom aimed at by Lucretius might per- 
haps be deemed a positive good. " This terror," he says, 
" and darkness of mind must be dispelled, not by the rays 
of the sun and glittering shafts of day, but by the aspect 
and the law of Nature," He refutes the notion that any 
thing can come out of nothing, or that that which is once 
begotten can be recalled to nothing. The first beginnings, 
the atoms, are indestructible, and into them all things "can 
be resolved at last. Bodies are partly atoms, and partly 
combinations of atoms ; but the atoms nothing can quench. 
They are strong in solid singleness, and by their denser 
combination all things can be closely packed and exhibit 
enduring strength. He denies that matter is infinitely 
divisible. We come at length to the atoms, without which, 
. as an imperishable substratum, all order in the generation 
and development of things would be destroyed. 

The mechanical shock of the atoms being in his view 
the all-sufficient cause of things, he combats the notion 
that the constitution of Nature has been in any way de- 
termined by intelligent design. The interaction of the 
atoms throughout infinite time rendered all manner of 
combinations possible. Of these the fit ones persisted, 
while the unfit ones disappeared. Not after sage deliber- 
ation did the atoms station themselves in their right places, 
nor did they bargain what motions they should assume. 
From all eternity they have been driven together, and, 
after trying motions and unions of every kind, they fell at 
length into the arrangements out of which this system of 
things has been formed. " If you will apprehend and 
keep in mind these things, Nature, free at once, and rid of 
her haughty lords, is seen to do all things spontaneously 
of herself, without the meddling of the gods." 1 

1 Monro's translation. In his criticism of this work, Coydcmporary 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



45 



To meet the objection that his atoms cannot be seen, 
Lucretius describes a violent storm, and shows that the 
invisible particles of air act in the same way as the visible 
particles of water. We perceive, moreover, the different 
smells of things, yet never see them coming to our nos- 
trils. Again, clothes hung up on a shore which waves 
break upon become moist, and then get dry if spread out 
in the sun, though no eye can see either the approach or 
the escape of the water-particles. A ring, worn long on 
the ringer, becomes thinner; a water-drop hollows out a 
stone ; the ploughshare is rubbed away in the field ; the 
street-pavement is worn by the feet; but the particles that 
disappear at any moment we cannot see. Nature acts 
through invisible particles. That Lucretius had a strong 
scientific imagination the foregoing references prove. A 
fine illustration of his power in this respect is his expla- 
nation of the apparent rest of bodies whose atoms are in 
motion. He employs the image of a flock of sheep with 
skipping lambs, which, seen from a distance, presents 
simply a white patch upcn the green hill, the jumping of 
the individual lambs being quite invisible. 

His vaguely-grand conception of the atoms falling eter- 
nally through space suggested the nebular hypothesis to 
Kant, its first propounder. Far beyond the limits of our 
visible world are to be found atoms innumerable, which 
have never been united to form bodies, or which, if once 
united, have been again dispersed, falling silently through 
immeasurable intervals of time and space. As everywhere 
throughout the All the same conditions are repeated, so 
must the phenomena be repeated also. Above us, below 
us, beside US, therefore, are worlds without end; and this, 
when considered, must dissipate every thought of a deflec- 

Review, 1857, Dr. Hayman does not appear to be aware of the really 
sound and subtile observations on which the reasoning of Lucretius, 
though erroneous, sometimes rests. 



46 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S 



tion of the universe by the gods. The worlds come and go, 
attracting new atoms out of limitless space, or dispersing 
their own particles. The reputed death of Lucretius, which 
forms the basis of Mr. Tennyson's noble poem, is in strict 
accordance with his philosophy, which was severe and pure. 

Daring the centuries lying between the first of these 
three philosophers and the last, the human intellect was 
active in other fields than theirs. The sophists had run 
through their career. At Athens had appeared Socrates, 
Plato, and Aristotle, who ruined the sophists, and whose 
yoke remains to some extent unbroken to the present 
hour. Within this period also the School of Alexandria 
was founded, Euclid wrote his " Elements," and made some 
advance in optics. Archimedes had propounded the theory 
of the lever and the principles of hydrostatics. Pythago- 
ras had made his experiments on the harmonic intervals, 
while astronomy was immensely enriched by the discoveries 
of Hipparchus, who was followed by the historically more 
celebrated Ptolemy. Anatomy had been made the basis of 
scientific medicine ; and it is said by Draper 1 that vivisec- 
tion then began. In fact, the science of ancient Greece had 
already cleared the world of the fantastic images of divinities 
operating capriciously through natural phenomena. It had 
shaken itself free from that fruitless scrutiny " by the in- 
ternal light of the mind alone," which had vainly sought 
to transcend experience and reach a knowledge of ultimate 
causes. Instead of accidental observation, it had intro- 
duced observation with a purpose ; instruments were em- 
ployed to aid the senses; and scientific method was 
rendered in a great measure complete by the union of In- 
duction and Experiment. 

What, then, stopped its victorious advance ? Why was 
the scientific intellect compelled, like an exhausted soil, to 

1 " History of the Intellectual Development of Europe," p. 295. 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



47 



lie fallow for nearly two millenniums before it could re- 
gather the elements necessary to its fertility and strength ? 
Bacon has already let us know one cause ; Whewell as- 
cribes this stationary period to four causes — obscurity of 
thought, servility, intolerance of disposition, enthusiasm of 
temper — and he gives striking examples of each. 1 But 
these characteristics must have had their antecedents in 
the circumstances of the time. Borne and the other cities 
of th.e empire had fallen into moral putrefaction. Christi- 
anity had appeared, offering the gospel to the poor, and, by 
moderation if not asceticism of life, practically pretesting 
against the profligacy of the age. The sufferings of the 
early Christians, and the extraordinary exaltation of mind 
which enabled them to triumph over the diabolical tortures 
to which they were subjected, 2 must have left traces not 
easily effaced. They scorned the earth, in view of that 
" building of God, that house not made with hands, eternal 
in the heavens." The Scriptures which ministered to their 
spiritual needs were also the measure of their science. 
When, for example, the celebrated question of antipodes 
came to be discussed, the Bible was with many the ultimate 
court of appeal. Augustin, who flourished A. d. 400, would 
not deny the rotundity of the earth ; but he would deny 
the possible existence of inhabitants at the other side, " be- 
cause no such race is recorded in Scripture among the 
descendants of Adam." Archbishop Boniface was shocked 
at the assumption of a " world of human beings out of the 
reach of the means of salvation." Thus reined in, Science 
was not likely to make much progress. Later on, the 
political and theological strife between the Church and civil 
governments, so powerfully depicted by Draper, must have 
done much to stifle investigation. 

Whewell maker; many wise and brave remarks regard- 

1 " History of the Inductive Sciences," vol. i. 

2 Depicted with terrible vividness in Kenan's u Antichrist." 



48 



PROFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



ing the spirit of the middle ages. It was a menial spirit. 
The seekers after natural knowledge had forsaken that 
fountain of living waters, the direct appeal to Nature by 
observation and experiment, and had given themselves up 
to the reman ipulation of the notions of their predecessors. 
It was a time when thought had become abject, and when 
the acceptance of mere authority led, as it always does in 
science, to intellectual death. Natural events, instead of 
being traced to physical, were referred to moral causes ; 
while an exercise of the fantasy, almost as degrading as 
the spiritualism of the present day, took the place of scien- 
tific speculation. Then came the mysticism of the middle 
ages, magic, alchemy, the Neoplatonic philosophy, with 
its visionary though sublime abstractions, which caused men 
to look with shame upon their own bodies as hindrances to 
the absorption of the creature in the blessedness of the 
Creator. Finally came the scholastic philosophy, a fusion, 
according to Lanw, of the least-mature notions of Aristotle 
with the Christianity of the West. Intellectual immobility 
was the result. As a traveler without a compass in a fog 
may wander long, imagining he is making way, and find 
himself after hours of toil at his starting-point, so the 
schoolmen, having " tied and untied the same knots and 
formed and dissipated the same clouds," found themselves 
at the end of centuries in their old position. 

With regard to the influence wielded by Aristotle in 
the middle ages, and which, though to a less extent, he 
still wields, I would ask permission to make one remark. 
When the human mind has achieved greatness and given 
evidence of extraordinary power in any domain, there is a 
tendency to credit it with similar power in all other 
domains. Thus theologians have found comfort and as- 
surance in the thought that Newton dealt with the ques- 
tion of revelation, forgetful of the fact that the very de- 
votion of his powers, through all the best years of his life, 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



49 



to a totally different class of ideas, not to speak of any 
natural disqualification, tended to render him less instead of 
more competent to deal with theological and historic ques- 
tions. Goethe, starting from his established greatness as a 
poet, and indeed from his positive discoveries in natural 
history, produced a profound impression among the painters 
of Germany when he published his " Farbenlehre," in which 
he endeavored to overthrow Newton's theory of colors. 
This theory he deemed so obviously absurd that he con- 
sidered its author a charlatan, and attacked him with a 
corresponding vehemence of language. In the domain of 
natural history Goethe had made really considerable dis- 
coveries ; and we have high authority for assuming that, 
had he devoted himself wholly to that side of science, he 
might have reached in it an eminence comparable with 
that which he attained as a poet. In sharpness of obser- 
vation, in the detection of analogies, however apparently 
remote, in the classification and organization of facts ac- 
cording to the analogies discerned, Goethe possessed ex- 
traordinary powers. These elements of scientific inquiry 
fall in with the discipline of the poet. But, on the other 
hand, a mind thus richly endowed in the direction of natural 
history may be almost shorn of endowment as regards 
the more strictly-called physical and mechanical sciences. 
Goethe was in this condition. He could not formulate 
distinct mechanical conceptions ; he could not see the force 
of mechanical reasoning; and in regions where such rea- 
soning reigns supreme he became a mere ignis fatuus to 
those who followed him. 

1 have sometimes permitted myself to compare Aris- 
totle with Goethe, to credit the Stagirite with an almost 
superhuman power of amassing and systematizing facts, but 
to consider him fatally defective on that side of the mind 
in respect to which incompleteness has been just ascribed 
to Goethe. Whewell refers the errors of Aristotle, not to 
3 



50 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S 



a neglect of facts, but to a " neglect of the idea appropriate 
to the facts ; the idea of mechanical cause, which is force, 
and the substitution of vague or inapplicable notions, in- 
volving only relations of space or emotions of wonder. " 
This is doubtless true ; but the word " neglect " implies mere 
intellectual misdirection, whereas in Aristotle, as in Goethe, 
it was not, I believe, misdirection, but sheer natural incapa- 
city which lay at the root of his mistakes. As a physicist, 
Aristotle displayed what we should consider some of the 
worst attributes of a modern physical investigator — indis- 
tinctness of ideas, confusion of mind, and a confident use of 
language, which led to the delusive notion that he had 
really mastered his subject, while he had as yet failed to 
grasp even the elements of it, He put words in the place 
of things, subject in the place of object. He preached in- 
duction without practising it, inverting the true order of 
inquiry by passing from the general to the particular in- 
stead of from the particular to the general. He made of the 
universe a closed sphere, in the centre of which he fixed 
the earth, proving from general principles, to his own satis- 
faction and to that of the world for near two thousand years, 
that no other universe was possible. His notions of motion 
were entirely unphysical. It was natural or unnatural, 
better or worse, calm or violent — no real mechanical 
conception regarding it lying at the bottom of his mind. 
He affirmed that a vacuum could not exist, and proved that 
if it did exist motion in it would be impossible. He de- 
termined a priori how many species of animals must exist, 
and shows on general principles why animals must have 
such and such parts. When an eminent contemporary 
philosopher, who is far removed from errors of this kind, 
remembers these abuses of the a priori method, he will be 
able to make allowance for the jealousy of physicists as to 
the acceptance of so-called a priori truths. Aristotle's 
errors of detail, as shown by Eucken and Lange, were grave 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



51 



and numerous. He affirmed that only in man we had the 
beating of the heart, that the left side of the body was 
colder than the right, that men have more teeth than 
women, and that there is an empty space at the back of 
every man's head. 

There is one essential quality in physical conceptions 
which is entirely wanting in those of Aristotle and his fol- 
lowers. I wis! i it could be expressed by a word untainted 
by its associations ; it signifies a capability of being placed 
as a coherent picture before the mind. The Germans ex- 
press the act of picturing by the word vorstellen, and the 
picture they call a Vorstellung* We have no word in Eng- 
lish which comes nearer to our requirements than imagi- 
nation, and, taken with its proper limitations, the word 
answers very well ; but, as just intimated, it is tainted 
by its associations, and therefore objectionable to some 
minds. Compare, with reference to this capacity of men- 
tal presentation, the case of the Aristotelian who refers 
the ascent of water in a pumjD to Nature's abhorrence of a 
vacuum, with that of Pascal when he proposed to solve the 
question of atmospheric pressure by the ascent of the 
Puy de Dome. In the one case the terms of the explana- 
tion refuse to fall into place as a physical image ; in the 
other the image is distinct, the fall and rise of the barome- 
ter being clearly figured as the balancing of two varying 
and opposing pressures. 

During the drought of the middle ages in Christen- 
dom, the Arabian intellect, as forcibly shown by Draper, 
was active. With the intrusion of the Moors into Spain, 
he says, order, learning, and refinement, took the place of 
their opposites. When smitten with disease, the Christian 
peasant resorted to a shrine, the Moorish one to an in- 
structed physician. The Arabs encouraged translations 
from the Greek philosophers, but not from the Greek poets. 
They turned in disgust "from the lewdness of our classical 



r 



52 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S 



mythology, and denounced as an unpardonable blasphemy 
all connection between the impure Olympian Jove and the 
Most High God." Draper traces still further than Whe- 
well the Arab elements in our scientific terms, and points 
out that the under-garment of ladies retains to this hour 
its Arab name. He gives examples of what Arabian men 
of science accomplished, dwelling particularly on Alhazan, 
wmo was the first to correct the Platonic notion that rays 
of light are emitted by the eye. He discovered atmos- 
pheric refraction, and points out that we see the sun and 
the moon after they have set. He explains the enlarge- 
ment of the sun and moon, and the shortening of the verti- 
cal diameters of both these bodies, when near the horizon. 
He is aware that the atmosphere decreases in density with 
increase of elevation, and actually fixes its height at fifty- 
eight and a half miles. In the " Book of the Balance Wis- 
dom," he sets forth the connection between the weight of 
the atmosphere and its increasing density. He shows that 
a body will weigh differently in a rare and dense atmos- 
phere ; he considers the force with which plunged bodies 
rise through heavier media. He understands the doctrine 
of the centre of gravity, and applies it to the investigation 
of balances and steelyards. He recognizes gravity as a 
force, though he falls into the error of making it diminish 
simply as the distance increased, and of making it purely 
terrestrial. He knows the relation between the velocities, 
spaces, and times of falling bodies, and has distinct ideas 
of capillary attraction. He improved the hydrometer. The 
determination of the densities of bodies as given by Alhazan 
approaches very closely to our own. " I join," says Draper, 
" in the pious prayer of Alhazan, 4 that in the day of judg- 
ment the All-Merciful will take pity on the soul of Abur- 
Raih&n, because he was the first of the race of men to con- 
struct a table of specific gravities." If all this be historic 
truth (and I have entire confidence in Dr. Draper), well may 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



53 



he "deplore the systematic manner in which the literature 
of Europe bus contrived to put out of sight our scientific 
obligations to the Mohammedans." 1 

The strain upon the mind during the stationary period 
toward ultra-terrestrial things, to the neglect of problems 
close at hand, was sure to provoke reaction. But the reac- 
tion was gradual ; for the ground was dangerous, a power 
being at hand competent to crush the critic who went too 
far. To elude this power and still allow opportunity for the 
expression of opinion, the doctrine of " twofold truth " was 
invented, according to which an opinion might be held "the- 
ologically " and the opposite opinion " philosophically." 1 
Thus in the thirteenth century the creation of the world in 
six days, and the unchangeableness of the individual soul, 
which had been so distinctly affirmed by St. Thomas 
Aquinas, were both denied philosophically, but admitted 
to be true as articles of the Catholic faith. When Protag- 
oras uttered the maxim which brought upon him so much 
vituperation, that " opposite assertions are equally true," he 
simply meant that human beings differed so much from each 
other that what was subjectively true to the one might be 
subjectively untrue to the other. The great sophist never 
meant to play fast and loose with the truth by saying that 
one of two opposite assertions, made by the same individ- 
ual, could possibly escape being a lie. It was not " sophis- 
try," but the dread of theologic vengeance, that generated 
this double dealing with conviction; and it is astonishing 
to notice what lengths were possible to men who were 
adroit in the use of artifices of this kind. 

Toward the close of the stationary period a word-weari- 
ness, if I may so express it, took more and more possession 
of men's minds, Christendom had become sick of the 
school philosophy and its verbal wastes, which led to no 

1 " Intellectual Development of Europe," p. S59. 
' Langc, second edition, pp. 181, 182. 



54 



PROFESSOR TYKD ALL'S 



issue, but left the intellect in everlasting haze. Here and 
there he heard the voice of one impatiently crying in the 
wilderness, " Not unto Aristotle, not unto subtile hypothe- 
sis, not unto Church, Bible, or blind tradition, must we turn 
for a knowledge of the universe, but to the direct inves- 
tigation of Nature by observation and experiment." In 
1543 the epoch-making work of Copernicus on the paths 
of the heavenly bodies appeared. The total crash of Aris- 
totle's closed universe with the earth at its centre followed 
as a consequence, and " the earth moves ! " became a kind 
of watchword among intellectual freemen. Copernicus 
was canon of the Church of Frauenburg, in the diocese of 
Ermeland. For three-and-thirty years he had withdrawn 
himself from the world and devoted himself to the consoli- 
dation of his great scheme of the solar system. He made 
its blocks eternal ; and even to those who feared it and de- 
sired its overthrow it was so obviously strong that they re- 
frained for a time from meddling with it. In the last year 
of the life of Copernicus his book appeared : it is said that 
the old man received a copy of it a few days before his 
death, and then departed in peace. 

The Italian philosopher, Giordano Bruno, was one cf 
the earliest converts to the new astronomy. Taking Lucre- 
tius as his exemplar, he revived the notion of the infinity 
of worlds ; and, combining with it the doctrine of Coper- 
nicus, reached the sublime generalization that the fixed 
stars are suns, scattered numberless through space and ac- 
companied by satellites, which bear the same relation to 
them that our earth does to our sun, or our moon to our 
earth. This was an expansion of transcendent import ; but 
Bruno came closer than this to our present line of thought. 
Struck with the problem of the generation and maintenance 
of organisms, and duly pondering it, he came to the conclu- 
sion that Nature in her productions does not imitate the 
technic of man. Her process is one of unraveling and un- 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



55 



folding. The infinity of forms under which matter appears 
was not imposed upon it by an external artificer ; by its 
own intrinsic force and virtue it brings these forms forth. 
Matter is not the mere naked, empty capacity which phi- 
losophers have pictured her to be, but the universal mother 
who brings forth all things as the fruit of her own womb. 

This outspoken man was originally a Dominican monk. 
He was accused of heresy and had to fly, seeking refuge in 
Geneva, Paris, England, and Germany. In 1592 he fell- 
into the hands of the Inquisition at Venice. He was im- 
prisoned for many years, tried, degraded, excommunicated, 
and handed over to the civil power, with the request that 
he should be treated gently and " without the shedding of 
blood." This meant that he was to be burnt; and burnt 
accordingly he was, on the lGth of February, 1600. To 
escape a similar fate, Galileo, thirty-three years after- 
ward, abjured, upon his knees, and with his hands urjon the 
holy gospels, the heliocentric doctrine which he knew to be 
true. After Galileo came Kepler, who from his German 
home defied the power beyond the Alps. He traced out 
from preexisting observations the laws of planetary motion. 
Materials were thus prepared for Newton, who bound those 
empirical laws together by the principle of gravitation. 

In the seventeenth century Bacon and Descartes, the 
restorers of philosophy, appeared in succession. Differently 
educated and endowed, their philosophic tendencies were 
different. Bacon held fast to Induction, believing firmly in 
the existence of an external world, and making collected 
experiences the basis of all knowledge. The mathematical 
studies of 1 K seartes gave him a bias toward Deduction ; 
and his fundamental principle was much the same as that 
of Protagoras, who made the individual man the measure 
of all tilings. "1 think, therefore I am," said Descartes. 
Only hifl own identity was sure to him ; and the develop- 
ment of this system would have led to an idealism in which 



56 



PROFESSOR TYXD ALL'S 



the outer world would be resolved into a mere phenomenon 
of consciousness. Gassendi, one of Descartes's contempo- 
raries, of whom w^e shall hear more presently, quick]} 7 pointed 
out that the fact of personal existence would be proved as 
well by reference to any other act as to the act of thinking, 
I eat, therefore I am ; or, I love, therefore I am, would be 
quite as conclusive. Lichtenberg showed that the very 
thing to be proved was inevitably postulated in the first 
two words, " I think ; " and that no inference from the pos- 
tulate could by any possibility be stronger than the postu- 
late itself. 

But Descartes deviated strangely from the idealism im- 
plied in his fundamental principle. He was the first to 
reduce, in a manner eminently capable of bearing the test 
of mental presentation, vital phenomena to purely mechani- 
cal principles. Through fear or love, Descartes was a good 
churchman ; he accordingly rejects the notion of an atom, 
because it was absurd to suppose that God, if he so pleased, 
could not divide an atom ; he puts in the place of the atoms 
small round particles and light splinters, out of which he 
builds the organism. He sketches with marvelous physical 
insight a machine, with, water for its motive power, which 
shall illustrate vital actions. He has made clear to his 
mind that such a machine would be competent to carry on 
the processes of digestion, nutrition, growth, respiration, 
and the beating of the heart. It would be competent to 
accept impressions from the external sense, to store them 
up in imagination and memory, to go through the internal 
movements of the appetites and passions, the external 
movement of limbs. He deduces these functions of his 
machine from the mere arrangement of its organs, as the 
movement of a clock or other automaton is deduced from 
its weights and wheels. "As far as these functions are 
concerned," he says, "it is not necessary to conceive any 
other vegetative or sensitive soul, nor any other principle of 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



57 



motion or of life, than the blood and the spirits agitated by 
the fire which burns continually in the heart, and which is 
in no wise different from the fires which exist in inanimate 
bodies." Had Descartes been acquainted with the steam- 
engine, he would have taken it, instead of a fall of water, 
as his motive power, and shown the perfect analogy which 
exists between the oxidation of the food in the body and 
that of the coal in the furnace. He would assuredly have 
anticipated Mayer in calling the blood which the heart dif- 
fuses " the oil of the lamp of life ; " deducing all animal 
motions from the combustion of this oil, as the motions 
of a steam-engine are deduced from the combustion of 
its coal. As the matter stands, however, and considering 
the circumstances of the time, the boldness, clearness, 
and precision with which he grasped the problem of vital 
dynamics constitute a marvelous illustration of intellectual 
power. 1 

During the middle ages the doctrine of atoms had to 
all appearance vanished from discussion. In all probability 
it held its ground among sober-minded and thoughtful men, 
though neither the Church nor the world was prepared to 
hear of it with tolerance. Once, in the year 1348, it re- 
ceived distinct expression. But retractation by compulsion 
immediately followed, and, thus discouraged, it slumbered 
till the seventeenth century, when it was revived by a con- 
temporary and friend of Hobbes of Malmesbury, the ortho- 
dox Catholic provost of Digne, Gassendi. But, before stat- 
ing his relation to the Epicurean doctrine, it will be well 
to say a few words on the effect, as regards science, of the 
general introduction of monotheism among European na- 
tions. 

"Were men," says Hume, "led into the apprehension 
of invisible intelligent power by contemplation of the 

1 See Huxley's admirable essay on Descartes, " Lay Sermons," pp. 3G4 
365. 



58 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL'S 



works of Nature, they could never possibly entertain any 
conception but of one single being, who bestowed exist- 
ence and order on this vast machine, and adjusted all its 
parts to one regular system." Referring to the condition 
of the heathen, who sees a god behind every natural event, 
thus peopling the world with thousands of beings whose 
caprices are incalculable, Lange shows the impossibility of 
any compromise between such notions and those of science, 
which proceeds on the assumption of never-changing law 
and causality. "But," he continues, with characteristic 
penetration, a when the great thought of one God, acting 
as a unit upon the universe, has been seized, the connec- 
tion of things in accordance with the law of cause and 
effect is not only thinkable, but it is a necessary conse- 
quence of the assumption. For when I see ten thousand 
wheels in motion, and know, or believe, that they are all 
driven by one, then I know that I have before me a 
mechanism the action of every part of which is determined 
by the plan of the whole. So much being assumed, it 
follows that T may investigate the structure of that ma- 
chine, and the various motions of its parts. For the time 
being, therefore, this conception renders scientific action 
free." In other words, were a capricious God at the cir- 
cumference of every wheel and at the end of every lever, 
the action of the machine would be incalculable by the 
methods of science. But the action of all its parts being 
rigidly determined by their connections and relations, 
and these being brought into play by a single self-acting 
driving-wheel, then, though this last prime mover may 
elude me, I am still able to comprehend the machinery 
which it sets in motion. We have here a conception of 
the relation of Nature to its Author which seems perfectly 
acceptable to some minds, but perfectly intolerable to 
others. Newton and Boyle lived and worked happily 
under the influence of this conception ; Goethe rejected it 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



59 



with vehemence, and the same repugnance to accepting it 
is manifest in Carlyle. 1 

The analytic and synthetic tendencies of the human 
mind exhibit themselves throughout history, great writers 
ranging themselves sometimes on the one side, sometimes 
on the other. Men of warm feelings and minds open to the 
elevating impressions produced by Nature as a whole, whose 
satisfaction, therefore, is rather ethical than logical, lean 
to the synthetic side; while the analytic harmonizes best 
with the more precise and more mechanical bias which 
seeks the satisfaction of the understanding. Some form 
of pantheism was usually adopted by the one, while a de- 
tached Creator, working more or less after the manner of 
men, was often assumed by the other. Gassendi is hardly 
to be ranked with either. Having formally acknowledged 
God as the great first cause, he immediately dropped the 
idea, applied the known laws of mechanics to the atoms, 
deducing thence all vital phenomena. He defended Epi- 
curus, and dwelt upon his purity, both of doctrine and of 
life. True he was a heathen, but so was Aristotle. He 
assailed superstition and religion, and rightly, because he 
did not know the true religion. He thought that the gods 
neither rewarded nor punished, and adored them purely in 
consequence of their completeness ; here we see, says 
Gassendi, the reverence of the child instead of the fear of 
the slave. The errors of Epicurus shall be corrected, the 
body of his truth retained; and then Gassendi proceeds, 
as any heathen might do, to build up the world, and all 
that therein is, of atoms and molecules. God, who created 
earth and water, plants and animals, produced in the first 

1 Boyle's model of the universe was the Strasbourg clock with an out- 
side artificer. Goethe, on the other hand, sang — 

M Ihm ziemt's die Welt im Innern zu bewegen, 
Natur in sich, sich in Natur zu hegen." 

See al-o Carl vie, " Past and Present," chapter v. 



GO 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL'S 



place a definite number of atoms, which constituted the 
seed of all things. Then began that series of combina- 
tions and decompositions which goes on at present, and 
which will continue in future. The principle of every 
change resides in matter. In artificial productions the 
moving principle is different from the material worked 
upon ; but in Nature the agent works within, being the 
most active and mobile part of the material itself. Thus, 
this bold ecclesiastic, without incurring the censure of the 
Church or the world, contrives to outstrip Mr. Darwin, 
The same cast of mind which caused him to detach the 
Creator from his universe led him also to detach the soul 
from the body, though to the body he ascribes an influ- 
ence so large as to render the soul almost unnecessary. 
The aberrations of reason were in his view an affair of the 
material brain. Mental disease is brain-disease ; but then 
the immortal reason sits apart, and cannot be touched by 
the disease. The errors of madness are errrors of the in- 
strument, not of the performer. 

It may be more than a mere result of education, con- 
necting itself probably with the deeper mental structure 
of the two men, that the idea of Gassendi above enunciated 
is substantially the same as that expressed by Prof. 
Clerk Maxwell at the close of the very able lecture deliv- 
ered by him at Bradford last year. According to both 
philosophers, the atoms, if I understand aright, are the 
prepared materials which, formed by the skill of the high- 
est, produce by their subsequent interaction all the phe- 
nomena of the material world. There seems to be this 
difference, however, between Gassendi and Maxwell : the 
one postulates^ the other infers his first cause. In his 
" manufactured articles," as he calls the atoms, Prof. Max- 
well finds the basis of an induction which enables him to 
scale philosophic heights considered inaccessible by Kant, 
and to take the logical step from the atoms to their Maker. 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



61 



Accepting here the leadership of Kant, I doubt the 
legitimacy of Maxwell's logic ; but it is impossible not to 
feel the efliic glow with which his lecture concludes. 
There is, moreover, a very noble strain of eloquence in his 
description of the steadfastness of the atoms : " Natural 
causes, as we know, are at work, which tend to modify, if 
they do not at length destroy, all the arrangements and 
dimensions of the earth and the whole solar system. But 
though in the course of ages catastrophes have occurred 
and may yet occur in the heavens, though ancient systems 
may be dissolved and new systems evolved out of their 
ruins, the molecules out of which these systems are built — 
the foundation-stones of the material universe — remain un- 
broken and unworn." 

The atomic doctrine, in whole or in part, was enter- 
tained by Bacon, Descartes, Hobbes, Locke, Newton, Boyle, 
and their successors, until the chemical law of multiple 
proportions enabled Dalton to confer upon it an entirely 
new significance. In our day there are secessions from the 
theory, but it still stands firm. Loschmidt, Stoney, and 
Sir William Thomson, have sought to determine the sizes 
of the atoms, or, rather, to fix the limits between which 
their sizes lie ; while only last year the discourses of 
Williamson and Maxwell illustrate the present hold of the 
doctrine upon the foremost scientific minds. In fact, it 
may be doubted whet her, wanting this fundamental con- 
ception, a theory of the material universe is capable of 
scientific statement. 

Ninety years subsequent to Gassendi the doctrine of 
bodily instruments, as it may be called, assumed immense 
importance in the hands of Bishop Butler, who, in his 
famous * Analogy of Religion," developed, from his own 
point of view, and with consummate sagacity, a similar 
idea. The bishop still influences superior minds ; and it 



62 



PROFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



will repay us to dwell for a moment on his views. He 
draws the sharpest distinction between our real selves and 
our bodily instruments. He does not, as far as I remem- 
ber, use the word soul, possibly because the term was so 
hackneyed in his day as it had been for many generations 
previously. But he speaks of " living powers," " perceiv- 
ing" or "percipient powers," "moving agents," "our- 
selves," in the same sense as we should employ the term soul. 
He dwells upon the fact that limbs may be removed, and 
mortal diseases assail the body, the mind, almost up to 
the moment of death, remaining clear. He refers to 
sleep and to swoon, where the " living powers " are sus- 
pended, but not destroyed. He considers it quite as easy 
to conceive of existence out of our bodies as in them : 
that we may animate a succession of bodies, the dissolu- 
tion of all of them having no more tendency to dissolve 
our real selves, or " deprive us of living faculties — the 
faculties of perception and action — than the dissolution of 
any foreign matter which we are capable of receiving 
impressions from, or making use of for the common occa- 
sions of life." This is the key of the bishop's position ; 
" our organized bodies are no more a part of ourselves 
than any other matter around us." In proof of this he 
calls attention to the use of glasses, which " prepare ob- 
jects " for the " percipient power " exactly as the eye does. 
The eye itself is no more percipient than the glass; is 
quite as much the instrument of the true self, and also as 
foreign to the true self, as the glass is. " And if we see 
with our eyes only in the same manner as we do with 
glasses, the like may justly be concluded from analogy of 
all our senses." 

Lucretius, as you are aware, reached a precisely op- 
posite conclusion ; and it certainly would be interesting, 
if not profitable, to us all, to hear what he would or could 
urge in opposition to the reasoning of the bishop. As a 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



63 



brief discussion of the point will enable us to see the 
bearings of an important question, I will here permit a 
disciple of Lucretius to try the strength of the bishop's 
position, and then allow the bishop to retaliate, with the 
view of rolling back, if he can, the difficulty upon Lucre- 
tius. 

The argument might proceed in this fashion : 
"Subjected to the test of mental presentation (Vorsteb 
lung), your views, most honored prelate, would present 
to many minds a great, if not an insuperable, difficulty. 
You speak of c living powers,' ' percipient or perceiving 
powers,' and 'ourselves;' but can you form a mental 
picture of any one of these apart from the organism 
through which it is supposed to act? Test yourself 
honestly, and see whether you possess any faculty that 
would enable you to form such a conception. The true 
self has a local habitation in each of us ; thus localized, 
must it not possess a form ? If so, what form ? Have 
you ever for a moment realized it ? When a leg is ampu- 
tated the body is divided into two parts ; is the true self 
in both of them or in one ? Thomas Aquinas might say in 
both ; but not you, for you appeal to the consciousness 
associated with one of the two parts to prove that the 
other is foreign matter. Is consciousness, then, a neces- 
sary element of the true self ? If so, what do you say to 
the case of the whole body being deprived of conscious- 
ness ? If not, then on what grounds do you deny any 
portion of the true self to the severed limb ? It seems 
very singular that, from the beginning to the end of your 
admirable book (and no one admires its sober strength 
more than I do), you never once mention the brain or 
nervous system. You begin at one end of the bod} T , and 
show that its parts may be removed without prejudice to 
the perceiving power. What if you begin at the other 
end, and remove, instead of the leg, the brain ? The 



G4 



PROFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



body, as before, is divided into two parts ; but both are 
now in the same predicament, and neither can be appealed 
to to prove that the other is foreign matter. Or, instead 
of going so far as to remove the brain itself, let a certain 
portion of its bony covering be removed, and let a 
rhythmic series of pressures and relaxations of pressure 
be applied to the soft substance. At every pressure 4 the 
faculties of perception and of action' vanish; at every 
relaxation of pressure they are restored. Where, during 
the intervals of pressure, is the perceiving power? I 
once had the discharge of a large Leyden battery passed 
unexpectedly through me : I felt nothing, but was simply 
blotted out of conscious existence for a sensible interval. 
Where was my true self during that interval ? Men who 
have recovered from lightning-stroke have been much 
longer in the same state ; and, indeed, in cases of ordinary 
concussion of the brain, days may elapse during which no 
experience is registered in consciousness. Where is the 
man himself during the period of insensibility ? You 
may say that I beg the question when I assume the man 
to have been unconscious, that he was really conscious all 
the time, and has simply forgotten what had occurred to 
him. In reply to this, I can only say that no one need 
shrink from the worst tortures that superstition ever in- 
vented if only so felt and so remembered. I do not think 
your theory of instruments goes at all to the bottom of 
the matter. A telegraph-operator has his instruments, by 
means of which he converses with the world ; our bodies 
possess a nervous system, which plays a similar part be- 
tween the perceiving power and external things. Cut the 
wires of the operator, break his battery, demagnetize his 
needle : by this means you certainly sever his connection 
with the world ; but, inasmuch as these are real instru- 
ments, their destruction does not touch the man who uses 
them. The operator survives, and he knows that he sur- 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



65 



wives. What is it, I would ask, in the human system that 
answers to this conscious survival of the operator when 
the battery of the brain is so disturbed as to produce 
insensibility, or when it is destroyed altogether? 

" Another consideration, which you may consider 
slight, presses upon me with some force. The brain may- 
change from health to disease, and through such a change 
the most exemplary man may be converted into a deb- 
auchee or a murderer. My very noble and approved good 
master had, as you know, threatenings of lewdness intro- 
duced into his brain by his jealous wife's philter ; and, 
sooner than permit himself to run even the risk of yielding 
to these base promptings, he slew himself. How could 
the hand of Lucretius have been thus turned against him- 
self if the real Lucretius remained as before ? Can the 
brain or can it not act in this distempered way without 
the intervention of the immortal reason ? If it can, then 
it is a prime mover which requires only healthy regulation 
to render it reasonably self-acting, and there is no apparent 
need of your immortal reason at all. If it cannot, then 
the immortal reason, by its mischievous activity in oper- 
ating upon a broken instrument, must have the credit of 
committing every imaginable extravagance and crime. I 
think, if you will allow me to say 7 so, that the gravest con- 
sequences are likely to flow from your estimate of the 
body. To regard the brain as you would a staff or an eye- 
glass — to shut your eyes to all its mystery, to the perfect 
correlation of its condition and our consciousness, to the 
fact that a slight excess or defect of blood in it produces 
the very swoon to which you refer, and that in relation to 
it our meat and drink and air and exercise have a per- 
fectly transcende ntal value and significance— to forget all 
this, does, I think, open a way to innumerable errors in our 
habits of life, and may possibly in some cases initiate and 
foster that very disease, and consequent mental ruin, 



PROFESSOR TYJSTD ALL'S 



which a wiser appreciation of this mysterious organ would 
have avoided." 

I can imagine the bishop thoughtful after hearing this 
argument. He was not the man to allow anger to mingle 
with the consideration of a point of this kind. After due 
reflection, and having strengthened himself by that honest 
contemplation of the facts which was habitual with him, 
and which includes the desire to give even adverse facts 
their due weight, I can suppose the bishop to proceed 
thus : " You will remember that in the c Analogy of Reli- 
gion,' of which you have so kindly spoken, I did not 
profess to prove any thing absolutely, and that I over and 
over again acknowledged and insisted on the smallness of 
our knowledge, or rather the depth of our ignorance, as 
regards the whole system of the universe. My object was 
to show my deistical friends, who set forth so eloquently 
the beauty and beneficence of Nature and the Ruler thereof, 
while they had nothing but scorn for the so-called absurdi- 
ties of the Christian scheme, that they were in no better 
condition than we were, and that, for every difficulty found 
upon our side, quite as great a difficulty was to be found 
upon theirs. I w r ill now, with your permission, adopt a 
similar line of argument. You are a Lucretian, and from 
the combination and separation of insensate atoms deduce 
all terrestrial things, including organic forms and their 
phenomena. Let me tell you, in the first instance, how far 
I am prepared to go with you. I admit that you can build 
crystalline forms out of this play of molecular force ; that 
the* diamond, amethyst, and snow-star, are truly wonderful 
structures which are thus produced. I will go further and 
acknowledge that even a tree or flower might in this way 
be organized. Nay, if you can show me an animal without 
sensation, I will concede to you that it also might be put 
together by the suitable play of molecular force. 

" Thus far our way is clear ; but now comes my diffi- 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



67 



culty. Your atoms are individually without sensation, 
much more are they without intelligence. May I ask you, 
then, to try your hand upon this problem ? Take your dead 
hydrogen-atoms, your dead oxygen-atoms, your dead car- 
bon-atoms, your dead nitrogen-atoms, your dead phosphorus- 
atoms, and all the other atoms, dead as grains of shot, of 
which the brain is formed. Imagine them separate and 
sensationless, observe them running together and forming 
all imaginable combinations. This, as a purely mechanical 
process, is seeable by the mind. But can you see, or dream, 
or in any way imagine, how out of that mechanical act, and 
from these individually dead atoms, sensation, thought, and 
emotion, are to arise ? Are you likely to extract Homer out 
of the rattling of dice, or the Differential Calculus out of 
the clash of billiard-balls ? I am not all bereft of this Vor~ 
stellungskraft of which you speak, nor am I, like so many 
of my brethren, a mere vacuum as regards scientific knowl- 
edge. I can follow a particle of musk until it reaches the 
olfactory nerve ; I can follow the waves of sound until their 
tremors reach the water of the labyrinth and set the otoliths 
and Corti's fibres in motion ; I can also visualize the waves 
of ether as they cross the e} r e and hit the retina. Nay, 
more, I am able to pursue to the central organ the motion 
thus imparted at the periphery, and to see in idea the very 
molecules of the brain thrown into tremors. My insight is 
not baffled by these physical processes. What baffles 
and bewilders me, is the notion that from those physical 
tremors things so utterly incongruous with them as sensa- 
tion, thought, and emotion, can be derived. You may say, 
or think, that this issue of consciousness from the clash of 
atoms is not more incongruous than the flash of light from 
the union of oxygen and hydrogen. But I beg to say that 
it is. For such incongruity as the flash possesses is that 
which T now force upon your attention. The flash is an 
affair of consciousness, the objective counterpart of which 



68 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S 



is a vibration. It is a flash only by your interpretation. 
You are the cause of the apparent incongruity, and you 
are the thing that puzzles me. I need not remind you that 
the great Leibnitz felt the difficulty which I feel, and that 
to get rid of this monstrous deduction of life from death 
he displaced your atoms by his monads, which were more 
or less perfect mirrors of the universe, and out of the sum- 
mation and integration of which he supposed all the phe- 
nomena of life — sentient, intellectual, and emotional — to 
arise. 

" Your difficulty, then, as I see you are ready to admit, 
is quite as great as mine. You cannot satisfy the human 
understanding in its demand for logical continuity between 
molecular processes and the phenomena of consciousness. 
This is a rock on which materialism must inevitably split 
whenever it pretends to be a complete philosophy of life. 
What is the moral, my Lucretian? You and I are not 
likely to indulge in ill-temper in the discussion of these 
great topics, where we see so much room for honest differ- 
ences of opinion. But there are people of less wit or more 
bigotry (I say it with humility) on both sides, who are ever 
ready to mingle anger and vituperation with such discus- 
sions. There are, for example, writers of note and influ- 
ence at the present day who are not ashamed to assume 
the ' deep personal sin 5 of a great logician to be the cause 
of his unbelief in a theologic dogma. And there are others 
who hold that we, who cherish our noble Bible, wrought as 
it has been into the constitution of our forefathers, and by 
inheritance into us, must necessarily be hypocritical and 
insincere. Let us disavow and discountenance such people, 
cherishing the unswerving faith that what is good and true 
in both our arguments w T ill be preserved for the benefit of 
humanity, while all that is bad or false will disappear." 

I hold the bishop's reasoning to be unanswerable, and 
his liberality to be worthy of imitation. 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



G9 



It is worth remarking that in one respect the bishop 
was a product of his age. Long previous to his day the 
nature of the soul had been so favorite and general a topic 
of discussion, that, when the students of the University of 
Paris wished to know the leanings of a new professor, they 
at once requested him to lecture upon the soul. About 
the time of Bishop Butler the question was not only agi- 
tated, but extended. It was seen by the clear-witted men 
who entered this arena that many of their best arguments 
applied equally to brutes and men. The bishop's argu- 
ments were of this character. He saw it, admitted it, 
accepted the consequences, and boldly embraced the whole 
animal world in his scheme of immortality. 

Bishop Butler accepted with unwavering trust the 
chronology of the Old Testament, describing it as "con- 
firmed by the natural and civil history of the world, col- 
lected from common historians, from the state of the earth, 
and from the late inventions of arts and sciences." These 
words mark progress ; and they must seem somewhat hoary 
to the bishop's successors of to-day. 1 It is hardly neces- 
sary to inform you that since his time the domain of the 
naturalist has been immensely extended — the whole science 
of geology, with its astounding revelations regarding the 
life of the ancient earth, having been created. The rigidity 
of old conceptions has been relaxed, the public mind being 
rendered gradually tolerant of the idea that not for six thou- 
sand, nor for sixty thousand, nor for six thousand thousand 
thousand, but for SBons embracing untold millions of years, 
this earth has been the theatre of life and death. The rid- 
dle of the rocks has been read by the geologist and paleon- 
tologist, from the subcambrian depths to the deposits thick- 
ening over the sea-bottoms of to-day. And upon the leaves 

1 Only to some; for there are dignitaries who even now speak of the 
earth's rocky orast as so much building-material prepared for man at the 
Creation. Surely it is time that this loose language should cease. 



70 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL'S 



of that stone book are, as you know, stamped the charac- 
ters, plainer and surer than those formed by the ink of his- 
tory, which carry the mind back into abysses of past time 
compared with which the periods which satisfied Bishop 
Butler cease to have a visual angle. 

The lode of discovery once struck, those petrified forms: 
in which life was at one time active increased to multitudes 
and demanded classification. They were grouped in genera, 
species, and varieties, according to the degree of similarity 
subsisting between them. Thus confusion was avoided, 
each object being found in the pigeon-hole appropriated to 
it and to its fellows of similar morphological or physiologi- 
cal character. The general fact soon became evident that 
none but the simplest forms of life lie lowest down, that, as 
we climb higher among the superimposed strata, more per- 
fect forms appear. The change, however, from form to 
form, was not continuous, but by steps — some small, some 
great. " A section," says Mr. Huxley, " a hundred feet 
thick will exhibit at different heights a dozen species of 
ammonite, none of which passes beyond its particular zone 
of limestone, of clay, into the zone below it, or into that 
above it." In the presence of such facts it was not pos- 
sible to avoid the question : Have these forms, showing, 
though in broken stages and with many irregularities, this 
unmistakable general advance, been subjected to no contin- 
uous law of growth or variation ? Had our education been 
purely scientific, or had it been sufficiently detached from 
influences which, however ennobling in another domain, 
nave always proved hinderances and delusions when intro- 
duced as factors into the domain of physics, the scientific 
mind never could have swerved from the search for a law 
of growth, or allowed itself to accept the anthropomor- 
phism which regarded each successive stratum as a kind of 
mechanic's bench for the manufacture of new species out of 
all relation to the old. 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



Biase 1, however, by tlieir previous education, the 
great majority of naturalists invoked a special creative act 
to account for the appearance of each new group of organ- 
isms. Doubtless there were numbers who were clear- 
headed enough to see that this was no explanation at all ; 
that in point of fact it was an attempt, by the introduction 
of a greater difficulty, to account for a less. But, having 
nothing to ofler in the way of explanation, they for the most 
part held their peace. Still the thoughts of reflecting men 
naturally and necessarily simmered round the question. 
De Maillet, a contemporary of Newton, has been brought 
into notice by Prof. Huxley as one who "had a notion of 
the modifiability of living forms." In my frequent conver- 
sations with him, the late Sir Benjamin Brodie, a man of 
highly-philosophic mind, often drew my attention to the 
fact that, as early as 1794, Charles Darwin's grandfather 
was the pioneer of Charles Darwin. 1 In 1801, and in sub- 
sequent years, the celebrated Lamarck, who produced so 
profound an impression on the public mind through the 
vigorous exposition of his views by the author of the " Ves- 
tiges of Creation," endeavored to show the development 
of species out of changes of habit and external condition. 
In 1813 Dr. Wells, the founder of our present theory of 
dew, read before the Royal Society a paper in which, to 
use the words of Mr. Darwin, " he distinctly recognizes 
the principle of natural selection ; and this is the first rec- 
ognition that has been indicated." The thoroughness and 
skill with which Wells pursued his work, and the obvious 
independence of his character, rendered him long ago a 
favorite with me; and it gave me the liveliest pleasure to 
alight upon this additional testimony to his penetration. 
Prof. Grant, Mr. Patrick Matthew, Yon Buch, the author 
of the u Vestiges," D'Halloy, and others, 2 by the enuncia- 

1 "Zoonomia," vol. i., pp. 500-510. 

2 In 1855 Mr. Herbert Speneer ("Principles of Psychology," second 



"12 



PROFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



tion of opinions more or less clear and correct, showed that 
the question had been fermenting long prior to the year 
1858, when Mr. Darwin and Mr. Wallace simultaneously, 
but independently, placed their closely concurrent views 
upon the subject before the Linn^ean Society. 

These papers were followed in 1859 by the publication 
of the first edition of " The Origin of Species." All great 
things come slowly to the birth. Copernicus, as I informed 
you, pondered his great work for thirty-three years. New- 
ton for nearly twenty years kept the idea of gravitation 
before his mind ; for twenty years also he dwelt upon his 
discovery of fluxions, and doubtless would have continued 
to make it the object of his private thought had he not 
found that Leibnitz was upon his track. Darwin for two- 
and-twenty years pondered the problem of the origin of 
species, and doubtless he would have continued to do so 
had he not found Wallace upon his track. 1 A concentrated 
but full and powerful epitome of his labors was the conse- 
quence. The book was by no means an easy one ; and 
probably not one in every score of those who then attacked 
it had read its pages through, or were competent to grasp 
their significance if they had. I do not say this mere- 
ly to discredit them ; for there were in those days some 
really eminent scientific men, entirely raised above the 
heat of popular prejudice, willing to accept any conclusion 
that science had to offer, provided it was duly backed by 
fact and argument, and who entirely mistook Mr. Darwin's 
views. In fact, the work needed an expounder ; and it 
found one in Mr. Huxley. I know nothing more admirable 
in the way of scientific exposition than those early articles 

edition, vol. i., p. 465) expressed il the belief that life under all its forms 
has arisen by an unbroken evolution, and through the instrumentality of 
what are called natural causes." 

1 The behavior of Mr. Wallace in relation to this subject has been 
dignified in the highest degree. 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



73 



of his on the origin of species. He swept the curve of dis- 
cussion through the really significant points of the subject, 
enriched his exposition with profound original remarks and 
reflections, often summing up in a single pithy sentence an 
argument which a less compact mind would have spread 
over pages. But there is an impression made by the book 
itself which no exposition of it, how r ever luminous, can con- 
vey ; and that is the impression of the vast amount of la- 
bor, both of observation and of thought, implied in its pro- 
duction. Let us glance at its principles. 

It is conceded on all hands that what are called varie- 
ties are continually produced. The rule is probably with- 
out exception. No chick and no child is in all respects 
and particulars the counterpart of its brother and sister ; 
and in such differences we have " variety n incipient. No 
naturalist could tell how far this variation could be carried ; 
but the great mass of them held that never by any amount 
of internal or external change, nor by the mixture of both, 
could the offspring of the same progenitor so far deviate 
from each other as to constitute different species. The 
function of the experimental philosopher is to combine the 
conditions of Nature and to produce her results ; and this 
was the method of Darwin. 1 He made himself acquainted 
with what could, without any manner of doubt, be done in 
the way of producing variation. He associated himself 
with pigeon-fanciers — bought, begged, kept, and observed 
every breed that he could obtain. Though derived from a 
common stock, the diversities of these pigeons w r ere such 
that " a score of them might be chosen which, if shown to 
an ornithologist, and he were told that they were wild 
birds, would certainly be ranked by him as well-defined 

1 The first step only toward experimental demonstration has been 
taken. Experiments! now begun might, a couple of centuries hence, 
furnish data of incalculable value, which ought to be supplied to the 
science of the future. 

4 



74 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S 



species." The simple principle which guides the pigeon- 
fancier, as it does the cattle-breeder, is the selection of 
some variety that strikes his fancy, and the propagation 
of this variety by inheritance. With his eye still directed 
to the particular appearance which he wishes to exagger- 
ate, he selects it as it reappears in successive broods, and 
thus adds increment to increment until an astonishing 
amount of divergence from the parent type is effected. 
The breeder in this case does not produce the elements 
of the variation. He simply observes them, and by selec- 
tion adds them together until the required result has been 
obtained. "No man,' 9 says Mr. Darwin, "would ever try 
to make a fantail till he saw a pigeon with a tail developed 
in some slight degree in an unusual manner, or a pouter 
until he saw a pigeon with a crop of unusual size." Thus 
Nature gives the hint, man acts upon it, and by the law of 
inheritance exaggerates the deviation. 

Having thus satisfied himself by indubitable facts that 
the organization of an animal or of a plant (for precisely 
the same treatment applies to plants) is to some extent 
plastic, he passes from variation under domestication to 
variation under Nature. Hitherto we have dealt with the 
adding together of small changes by the conscious selec- 
tion of man. Can Nature thus select ? Mr. Darwin's 
answer is, "Assuredly she can." The number of living 
things produced is far in excess of the number that can be 
supported ; hence at some period or other of their lives 
there must be a struggle for existence ; and what is the 
infallible result? If one organism were a perfect copy 
of the other in regard to strength, skill, and agility, ex- 
ternal conditions would decide. But this is not the case. 
Here we have the fact of variety offering itself to Nature, 
as in the former instance it offered itself to man ; and 
those varieties which are least competent to cope with 
surrounding conditions will infallibly give way to those 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 75 

that are most competent. To use a familiar proverb, the 
weakest comes to the wall. But the triumphant fraction 
again breeds to over-production, transmitting the qualities 
which Secured its maintenance, but transmitting them in 
different degrees. The struggle for food again supervenes, 
and those to whom the favorable quality has been transmitted 
in excess will assuredly triumph. It is easy to see that we 
have here the addition of increments favorable to the indi- 
vidual still more rigorously carried out than in the case of 
domestication ; for not only are unfavorable specimens not 
selected by Nature, but they are destroyed. This is what 
Mr. Darwin calls " Natural Selection," which " acts by the 
preservation and accumulation of small inherited modifica- 
tions, each profitable to the preserved being." "With this 
idea he interpenetrates and leavens the vast store of facts 
that he and others have collected. We cannot, without 
shutting our eyes through fear or prejudice, fail to see that 
Darwin is here dealing, not with imaginary, but with true 
causes ; nor can we fail to discern what vast modifications 
may be produced by natural selection in periods suffi- 
ciently long. Each individual increment may resemble 
what mathematicians call a "differential" (a quantity 
indefinitely small) ; but definite and great changes may 
obviously bo produced by the integration of these infini- 
tesimal quantities through practically infinite time. 

If Darwin, like Bruno, rejects the notion of creative 
power acting after human fashion, it certainly is not be- 
cause he is unacquainted with the numberless exquisite 
adaptations on which this notion of a supernatural artificer 
has been founded. His book is a repository of the most 
startling facts of this description. Take the marvelous 
observation which he cites from Dr. Criiger, where a bucket 
with an aperture, serving as a spout, is formed in an 
orchid. Bees visit the flower : in eager search of material 
for their combs they push each other into the bucket, the 



70 



PROFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



drenched ones escaping from their involuntary bath by the 
spout. Here they rub their backs against the viscid stigma 
of the flower and obtain glue ; then against the pollen- 
masses, which are thus stuck to the back of the bee and 
carried away. " When the bee, so provided, flies to another 
flower, or to the same flower a second time, and is pushed 
by its comrades into the bucket, and then crawls out by the 
passage, the pollen-mass upon its back necessarily comes 
first into contact with the viscid stigma," which takes up 
the pollen ; and this is how that orchid is fertilized. Or 
take this other case of the catasetum. " Bees visit these 
flowers in order to gnaw the labellum ; in doing this they 
inevitably touch a long, tapering, sensitive projection. 
This, when touched, transmits a sensation of vibration to 
a certain membrane, which is instantly ruptured, setting 
free a spring, by which the pollen-mass is shot forth like 
an arrow in the right direction, and adheres by its viscid 
extremity to the back of the bee." In this way the fertil- 
izing pollen is spread abroad. 

It is the mind thus stored with the choicest materials 
of the teleologist that rejects teleology, seeking to refer 
these wonders to natural causes. They illustrate, according 
to him, the method of Nature, not the " technic 55 of a man- 
like artificer. The beauty of flowers is due to natural se- 
lection. Those that distinguish themselves by vividly con- 
trasting colors from the surrounding green leaves are most 
readily seen, most frequently visited by insects, most often 
fertilized, and hence most favored by natural selection. 
Colored berries also readily attract the attention of birds 
and beasts, which feed upon them, spread their manured 
seeds abroad, thus giving trees and shrubs possessing such 
berries a greater chance in the struggle for existence. 

With profound analytic and synthetic skill, Mr. Darwin 
investigates the cell-making instinct of the hive-bee. His 
method of dealing with it is representative. He falls back 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



77 



from the more perfectly to the less perfectly developed 
instinct — from the hive-bee to the humble-bee, which uses 
its own cocoon as a comb, and to classes of bees of inter- 
mediate skill, endeavoring to show how the passage might 
be gradually made from the lowest to the highest. The 
saving of wax is the most important point in the economy 
of bees. Twelve to fifteen pounds of dry sugar are said to 
be needed for the secretion of a single pound of wax. The 
quantities of nectar necessary for the wax must therefore be 
vast; and every improvement of constructive instinct which 
results in the saving of wax is a direct profit to the insect's 
life. The time that would otherwise be devoted to the 
making of wax is now devoted to the gathering and storing 
of honey for winter food. He passes from the humble-bee 
with its rude cells, through the Melipona with its more 
artistic cells, to the hive-bee with its astonishing architect- 
ure. The bees place themselves at equal distances apart 
upon the wax, sweep and excavate equal spheres round the 
selected points. The spheres intersect, and the planes of 
intersection are built up with thin laminae. Hexagonal 
cells are thus formed. This mode of treating such ques- 
tions is, as I have said, representative. He habitually 
retires from the more perfect and complex to the less per- 
fect and simple, and carries you with him through stages 
of perfecting, adds increment to increment of infinitesimal 
change, and in this way gradually breaks down your reluc- 
tance to admit that the exquisite climax of the whole could 
be a result of natural selection. 

Mr. Darwin shirks no difficulty; and, saturated as the 
subject WE8 with his own thought, he must have known 
better than his critics the weakness as well as the strength 
of his theory. This of course would be of little avail were 
his object a temporary dialectic victory instead of the estab- 
lishment of a truth which he means to be everlasting. But 
he takes no pains to disguise the weakness he has discerned; 



78 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S 



nay, be takes every pains to bring it into the strongest 
light. His vast resources enable him to cope with objec- 
tions started by himself and others, so as to leave the final 
impression upon the reader's mind that, if they be not com- 
pletely answered, they certainly are not fatal. Their nega- 
tive force being thus destroyed, you are free to be influ- 
enced by the vast positive mass of evidence he is able to 
bring before you. This largeness of knowledge and readi- 
ness of resource render Mr. Darwin the most terrible of an- 
tagonists. Accomplished naturalists have leveled heavy 
and sustained criticisms against him — not always with the 
view of fairly weighing his theory, but with the express 
intention of exposing its weak points only. This does not 
irritate him. He treats every objection with a soberness 
and thoroughness which even Bishop Butler might be proud 
to imitate, surrounding each fact with its appropriate detail, 
placing it in its proper relations, and usually giving it a sig- 
nificance which, as long as it w r as kept isolated, failed to 
appear. This is done without a trace of ill temper. He 
moves over the subject with the passionless strength of a 
glacier ; and the grinding of the rocks is not always with- 
out a counterpart in the logical pulverization of the ob- 
jector. 

But though in handling this mighty theme all passion 
has been stilled, there is an emotion of the intellect incident 
to the discernment of new truth which often colors and 
warms the pages of Mr. Darw T in. His success has been 
great ; and this implies not only the solidity of his work, 
but the preparedness of the public mind for such a revela- 
tion. On this head a remark of Agassiz impressed me more 
than any thing else. Sprung from a race of theologians, 
this celebrated man combated to the last the theory of 
natural selection. One of the many times I had the pleas- 
ure of meeting him in the United States was at Mr. Win- 
throp's beautiful residence at Brookline, near Boston. Ris- 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



70 



ing from luncheon, we all halted as if by a common impulse 
in front of a window, and continued there a discussion which 
had been started at table. The maple was in its autumn 
glory ; and the exquisite beauty of the scene outside seemed, 
in my case, to interpenetrate without disturbance the intel- 
lectual action. Earnestly, almost sadly, Agassiz turned, and 
said to the gentlemen standing round, " I confess I was not 
prepared to see this theory received as it has been by the 
best intellects of our time. Its success is greater than I 
could have thought possible.'* 

In our day grand generalizations have been reached. 
The theory of the origin of species is but one of them. An- 
other, of still wider grasp and more radical significance, is 
the doctrine of the Conservation of Energy, the ultimate 
philosophical issues of which are as yet but dimly seen — 
that doctrine which " binds Nature fast in fate " to an ex- 
tent not hitherto recognized, exacting from every antece- 
dent its equivalent consequent, from every consequent its 
equivalent antecedent, and bringing vital as well as physical 
phenomena under the dominion of that law of causal con- 
nection which, so far as the human understanding has yet 
pierced, asserts itself everywhere in Nature. Long in ad- 
vance of all definite experiment upon the subject, the con- 
stancy and indestructibility of matter had been affirmed ; 
and all subsequent experience justified the affirmation. 
Later researches extended the attribute of indestructibility 
to force. This idea, applied in the first instance to inor- 
ganic, rapidly embraced organic Nature. The vegetable 
world, though drawing almost all its nutriment from invisi- 
ble sources, was proved incompetent to generate anew 
either matter or force. Its matter is for the most part 
transmuted gas ; its force transformed solar force. The 
animal world was proved to be equally uncreative, all its 
motive energies being referred to the combustion of its food. 
The activity of each animal as a whole was proved to be 



so 



PROFESSOR TYXD ALL'S 



the transferred activity of its molecules. The muscles were 
shown to be stores of mechanical force, potential until un- 
locked by the nerves, and then resulting in muscular con- 
tractions. The speed at which messages fly to and fro along 
the nerves was determined, and found to be, not, as had 
been previously supposed, equal to that of light or elec- 
tricity, but less than the speed of a flying eagle. 

This was the work of the physicist : then came the con- 
quests of the comparative anatomist and physiologist, re- 
vealing the structure of every animal r and the function of 
every organ in the whole biological series, from the lowest 
zoophyte up to man. The nervous sj^stem had been made 
the object of profound and continued study, the wonderful 
and, at bottom, entirely mysterious, controlling power which 
it exercises over the whole organism, physical and mental, 
being recognized more and more. Thought could not be 
kept back from a subject so profoundly suggestive. Be- 
sides the physical life dealt with by Mr. Darwin, there is a 
psychical life presenting similar gradations, and asking 
equally for a solution. How are the different grades and 
orders of -mind to be accounted for ? What is the principle 
of growth of that mysterious power which on our planet 
culminates in reason ? These are questions which, though 
not thrusting themselves so forcibly upon the attention of 
the general public, had not only occupied many reflecting 
minds, but had been formerly broached by one of them be- 
fore " The Origin of Species " appeared. 

With the mass of materials furnished by the physicist 
and physiologist in his hands, Mr. Herbert Spencer, 
twenty years ago, sought to graft upon this basis a 
system of psychology ; and two years ago a second and 
greatly amplified edition of his work appeared. Those 
who have occupied themselves with the beautiful ex- 
periments of Plateau will remember that, when two 
spherules of olive-oil, suspended in a mixture of alcohol- 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



81 



and-water of the same density as the oil, are brought 
together, they do not immediately unite. Something like 
a pellicle appears to be formed around the drops, the rupt- 
ure of which is immediately followed by the coalescence 
of the globules into one. There are organisms whose 
vital actions are almost as purely physical as that of 
these drops of oil. They come into contact and fuse 
themselves thus together. From such organisms to 
others a shade higher, and from these to others a shade 
higher still, and on through an ever-ascending series, Mr. 
Spencer conducts his argument. There are two obvious 
factors to be here taken into account — the creature and 
the medium in which it lives, or, as it is often expressed, 
the organism and its environment. Mr. Spencer's funda- 
mental principle is that between these two factors there is 
incessant interaction. The organism is played upon by 
the environment, and is modified to meet the requirements 
of the environment. Life he defines to be " a continuous 
adjustment of internal relations to external relations." 

In the lowest organisms we have a kind of tactual 
sense diffused over the entire body; then, through im- 
pressions from without and their corresponding adjust- 
ments, special portions of the surface become more 
responsive to stimuli than others. The senses are nascent, 
the basis of all of them being that simple tactual sense 
which the sage Democritus recognized twenty-three hun- 
dred years ago as 1 heir common progenitor. The action of 
light, in the first instance, appears to be a mere disturbance 
of the chemical processes in the animal organism, similar to 
that which occurs in the leaves of plants. By degrees the 
action becomes localized in a few pigment-cells, more 
sensitive to light than the surrounding tissue. The eve 
is here incipient At first it is merely capable of reveal- 
ing differences of light and shade produced by bodies 
close at hand. Followed as the interception of the light 



82 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S 



is in almost all cases by the contact of the closely adjacent 
opaque body, sight in this condition becomes a kind of 
" anticipatory touch." The adjustment continues ; a slight 
bulging out of the epidermis over the pigment-granules 
supervenes. A lens is incipient, and, through the opera- 
tion of infinite adjustments, at length reaches the perfec- 
tion that it displays in the hawk and eagle. So of the 
other senses ; they are special differentiations of a tissue 
which, was originally vaguely sensitive all over. 

With the development of the senses the adjustments 
between the organism and its environment gradually ex- 
tend in space, a multiplication of experiences and a corre- 
sponding modification of conduct being the result. The 
adjustments also extend in time, covering continually 
greater intervals. Along with this extension in space and 
time the adjustments also increase in specialty and com- 
plexity, passing through the various grades of brute-life, 
and prolonging themselves into the domain of reason. 
Very striking are Mr. Spencer's remarks regarding the 
influence of the sense of touch upon the development of 
intelligence. This is, so to say, the mother-tongue of all 
the senses, into which they must be translated to be of 
service to the organism. Hence its importance. The 
parrot is the most intelligent of birds, and its tactual 
power is also greatest. From this sense it gets knowl- 
edge unattainable by birds which cannot employ their 
feet as hands. The elephant is the most sagacious of 
quadrupeds — its tactual range and skill, and the conse- 
quent multiplication of experiences, which it owes to its 
wonderfully adaptable trunk, being the basis of its saga- 
city. Feline animals, for a similar cause, are more 
sagacious than hoofed animals — atonement being to some 
extent made, in the case of the horse, by the possession 
of sensitive prehensile lips. In the Primates the evolu- 
tion of intellect and the evolution of tactual appendages 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



b3 



go hand-in-hand. In the most intelligent anthropoid apes 
we find the tactual range and delicacy greatly augmented, 
new avenues of knowledge being thus open to the animal. 
Man crowns the edifice here, not only in virtue of his own 
manipulatory power, but through the enormous extension 
of his range of experience, by the invention of instru- 
ments of precision, which serve as supplemental senses 
and supplemental limbs. The reciprocal action of these 
is finely described and illustrated. That chastened intel- 
lectual emotion to which I have referred in connection 
with Mr. Darwin is not absent in Mr. Spencer. His illus- 
trations possess at times exceeding vividness and force ; 
and from his style on such occasions it is to be inferred 
that the ganglia of this Apostle of the Understanding are 
sometimes the seat of a nascent poetic thrill. 

It is a fact of supreme importance that actions the 
performance of which at first requires even painful effort 
and deliberation may by habit be rendered automatic. 
Witness the slow learning of its letters by a child, and 
the subsequent facility of reading in a man, when each 
group of letters which forms a word is instantly, and 
without effort, fused to a single perception. Instance the 
billiard-player, whose muscles of hand and eye, when he 
reaches the perfection of his art, are unconsciously coordi- 
nated. Instance the musician, who, by practice, is enabled 
to fuse a multitude of arrangements, auditory, tactual, and 
muscular, into a process of automatic manipulation. Com- 
bining such tacts with the doctrine of hereditary transmis- 
sion, we reach a theory of instinct. A chick, after coming 
out of the egg, balances itself correctly, runs about, picks 
up food, thus showing that it possesses a power of direct- 
ing its movements to definite ends. How did the chick 
learn this very complex coordination of eye, muscles, and 
beak? It has not been individually taught ; its personal 
experience ism// but it has the benefit of ancestral ex- 



84 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL'S 



perienco. In its inherited organization aie registered all 
the powers which it displays at birth. So also as regards 
the instinct of the hive-bee, already referred to. The dis- 
tance at which the insects stand apart when they sweep 
their hemispheres and build their cells is " organically re- 
membered." 

Man also carries with him the physical texture of his 
ancestry, as well as the inherited intellect bound up with 
it. The defects of intelligence during infancy and youth 
are probably less due to a lack of individual experience 
than to the fact that in early life the cerebral organization 
is still incomplete. The period necessary for completion 
varies with the race and with the individual. As a round 
shot outstrips a rifled one on quitting the muzzle of the 
gun, so the lower race in childhood may outstrip the 
higher. But the higher eventually overtakes the lower, 
and surpasses it in range. As regards individuals, we do 
not always find the precocity of youth prolonged to mental 
power in maturity ; while the dullness of boyhood is some- 
times strikingly contrasted with the intellectual energy of 
after-years. Newton, when a boy, was weakly, and he 
showed no particular aptitude at school; but in his 
eighteenth year he went to Cambridge, and soon after- 
ward astonished his teachers by his power of dealing with 
geometrical problems. During his quiet youth his brain 
was slowly preparing itself to be the organ of those 
energies which he subsequently displayed. 

By myriad blows (to use a Lucretian phrase) the image 
and superscription of the external world are stamped as 
states of consciousness upon the organism, the depth of 
the impression depending upon the number of the blows. 
When two or more phenomena occur in the environment 
invariably together, they are stamped to the same depth 
or to the same relief, and indissolubly connected. And 
here we come to the threshold of a great question. Seeing 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



33 



that he could in no way rid himself of the consciousness 
of Space and Time, Kant assumed them to be necessary 
"forms of intuition," the moulds and shapes into which 
our intuitions are thrown, belonging to ourselves solely, 
and without objective existence. With unexpected power 
and success Mr. Spencer brings the hereditary experience 
theory, as he holds it, to bear upon this question. "If 
there exist certain external relations which are experienced 
by all organisms at all instants of their waking lives — rela- 
tions which are absolutely constant and universal — there 
will be established answering internal relations that are 
absolutely constant and universal. Such relations we have 
in those of Space and Time. As the substrata of all 
other relations of the Non-Ego, they must be responded to 
by conceptions that are the substrata of all other relations 
in the Ego. Being the constant and infinitely-repeated 
elements of thought, they must become the automatic 
elements of thought — the elements of thought which it is 
impossible to get rid of — the c forms of intuition.' " 

Throughout this application and extension of the " Law 
of Inseparable Association," Mr. Spencer stands upon his 
own ground, invoking, instead of the experiences of the 
individual, the registered experiences of the race. His 
overthrow of the restriction of experience to the individual 
is, I think, complete. That restriction ignores the power 
of organizing experience furnished at the outset to each 
individual ; it ignores the different degrees of this power 
possessed by different races and by different individuals of 
the same race. Were there not in the human brain a po- 
tency antecedent to all experience, a dog or cat ought to 
be as capable of education as a man. These predetermined 
internal relations are independent of the experiences of the 
individual. The human brain is the " organized register of 
infinitely numerous experiences received during the evolu- 
tion of life, or rather during the evolution of that series of 



86 



PKOFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



organisms through which the human organism has been 
reached. The effects of the most uniform and frequent of 
these experiences have been successively bequeathed, prin- 
cipal and interest, and have slowly mounted to that high 
intelligence which lies latent in the brain of the infant. 
Thus it happens that the European inherits from twenty to 
thirty cubic inches more of brain than the Papuan. Thus 
it happens that faculties, as of music, which scarcely exist 
in some inferior races, become congenital in superior ones. 
Thus it happens that out of savages unable to count up to 
the number of their fingers, and speaking a language con- 
taining only nouns and verbs, arise at length our New tons 
and Shakespeares," 

At the outset of this Address it was stated that physi- 
cal theories which lie beyond experience are derived by a 
process of abstraction from experience. It is instructive to 
note from this point of view the successive introduction of 
new conceptions. The idea of the attraction of gravitation 
was preceded by the observation of the attraction of iron 
by a magnet, and of light bodies by rubbed amber. The 
polarity of magnetism and electricity appealed to the 
senses, and thus became the substratum of the conception 
that atoms and molecules are endowed with definite, attrac- 
tive, and repellent poles, by the play of which definite forms 
of crystalline architecture are produced. Thus molecular 
force becomes structural. It requires no great boldness of 
thought to extend its play into organic Nature, and to 
recognize in molecular force the agency by which both 
plants and animals are built up. In this way out of ex- 
perience arise conceptions which are wholly ultra-expe- 
riential. None of the atomists of antiquity had any no- 
tion of this play of molecular polar force, but they had ex- 
perience of gravity as manifested by falling bodies. Ab- 
stracting from this j they permitted their atoms to fall eter- 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



87 



nally through empty space. Democritus assumed that the 
larger atoms moved more rapidly than the smaller ones, 
which they therefore could overtake, and with which they 
could combine. Epicurus, holding that empty space could 
offer no resistance to motion, ascribed to all the atoms the 
same velocity ; but he seems to have overlooked the con- 
sequence that under such circumstances the atoms could 
never combine. Lucretius cut the knot by quitting the 
domain of physics altogether, and causing the atoms to move 
together by a kind of volition. 

Was the instinct utterly at fault which caused Lucretius 
thus to swerve from his own principles? Diminishing 
gradually the number of progenitors, Mr. Darwin comes at 
length to one M primordial form ; " but he does not say, as 
far as I remember, how he supposes this form to have been 
introduced. He quotes w 7 ith satisfaction the words of a 
celebrated author and divine who had "gradually learned 
to see that it is just as noble a conception ofthe Deity to 
believe He created a few original forms, capable of self- 
development into other and needful forms, as to believe 
that He required a fresh act of creation to supply the voids 
caused by the action of his laws." What Mr. Darwin 
thinks of this view of the introduction of life I do not know. 
But the anthropomorphism, which it seemed his object to 
set aside, is as firmly associated with the creation of a 
few forms as with the creation of a multitude. We need 
clearness and thoroughness here. Two courses, and two 
only, are possible. Either let us open our doors freely to 
the concept ion of creative acts, or, abandoning them, let us 
radically change our notions of matter. If we look at mat- 
ter as pictured by Democritus, and as defined for genera- 
tions in our scientific text-books,'the notion of any form of 
life whatever coming out of it is utterly unimaginable. 
The argument placed in the mouth of Bishop Butler suf- 
fices, in my opinion, to crush all such materialism as this. 



ss 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S 



But those who framed these definitions of matter were not 
biologists, but mathematicians, whose labors referred only 
to such accidents and properties of matter as could be ex- 
pressed in their formula?. The very intentness with which 
they pursued mechanical science turned their thoughts 
aside from the science of life. May not their imperfect 
definitions be the real cause of our present dread ? Let us 
reverently, but honestly, look the question in the face. Di- 
vorced from matter, where is life to be found ? Whatever 
our faith may say, our knowledge shows them to be indis- 
solubly joined. Every meal we eat, and every cup we 
drink, illustrates the mysterious control of mind by mat- 
ter. 

Trace the line of life backward, and see it approaching 
more and more to what we call the purely physical condi- 
tion. We come at length to those organisms which I have 
compared to drops of oil suspended in a mixture of alcohol- 
and-water. We reach the protogenes of Hackel, in which 
we have "a type distinguishable from a fragment of al- 
bumen only by its finely - granular character." Can we 
pause here ? We break a magnet and find two poles in 
each of its fragments. We continue the process of break- 
ing, but, however small the parts, each carries with it, 
though enfeebled, the polarity of the whole. And, when 
we can break no longer, we prolong the intellectual vision 
to the polar molecules. Are we not urged to do something 
similar in the case of life ? Is there not a temptation to 
close to some extent with Lucretius, when he affirms that 
" Nature is seen to do all things spontaneously of herself, 
without the meddling of the gods ? " or with Bruno, when 
he declares that Matter is not " that mere empty capacity 
which philosophers have pictured her to be, but the univer- 
sal mother who brings forth all things as the fruit of her 
own womb? " Believing as I do in the continuity of Na- 
ture, I cannot stop abruptly where our microscopes cease to 



AL DRESS AT BELFAST. 



89 



be of use. Here the vision of the mind authoritatively sup- 
plements the vision of the eye. By an intellectual neces- 
sity I cross the boundary of the experimental evidence, and 
discern in that matter which we, in our ignorance of its 
latent powers, and notwithstanding our professed reverence 
for its creator, have hitherto covered with opprobrium, the 
promise and potency of all terrestrial life. 

If you ask me whether there exists the least evidence 
to prove that any form of life can be developed out of mat- 
ter, without demonstrable antecedent life, my reply is that 
evidence considered perfectly conclusive by many has been 
adduced; and that were some of us who have pondered this 
question to follow a very common example, and accept tes- 
timony because it falls in with our belief, we also should 
eagerly close with the evidence referred to. But there is 
in the true man of science a wish stronger than the wish to 
have his beliefs upheld; namely, the wash to have them 
true. And this stronger wish causes him to reject the most 
plausible support if he has reason to suspect that it is viti- 
ated by error. Those to whom I refer as having studied 
this question, believing the evidence offered in favor of 
" spontaneous generation 55 to be thus vitiated, cannot ac- 
cept it. They know full well that the chemist now pre- 
pares from inorganic matter a vast array of substances 
which were some time ago regarded as the sole products of 
vitality. They are intimately acquainted with the structu- 
ral power of matter as evidenced in the phenomena of crys- 
tallization. The}' can justify scientifically their belief m its 
potency, under the proper conditions, to produce organisms. 
But in reply to your question they will frankly admit their 
inability to point to any satisfactory experimental proof 
that life can be developed save from demonstrable antece- 
dent life. As already indicated, they draw the line from 
the highest organisms through lower ones down to the low- 
est, and it is the prolongation of this line by the intellect 



90 



PROFESSOR TYNDALLTS 



beyond the range of the senses that leads them to the con- 
clusion which Bruno so boldly enunciated. 1 

The " materialism " here professed may be vastly differ- 
ent from what you suppose, and I therefore crave your gra- 
cious patience to the end. " The question of an external 
world," says Mr. J. S. Mill, " is the great battle-ground of 
metaphysics." 2 Mr. Mill himself reduces external phe- 
nomena to " possibilities of sensation." Kant, as we have 
seen, made time and space " forms " of our own intuitions. 
Fichte, having first by the inexorable logic of his under- 
standing proved himself to be a mere link in that chain of 
eternal causation which holds so rigidly in Nature, violently 
broke the chain by making Nature, and all that it inherits, 
an apparition of his own mind. 3 And it is by no means 
easy to combat such notions. For when I say I see you, 
and that I have not the least doubt about it, the reply is 
that what I am really conscious of is an affection of my own 
retina. And if I urge that I can check my sight of you by 
touching you, the retort would be that I am equally trans- 
gressing the limits of fact ; for what I am really conscious 
of is, not that you are there, but that the nerves of my hand 
have undergone a change. All we hear, and see, and touch, 
and taste, and smell, are, it would be urged, mere varia- 
tions of our own condition, beyond which, even to the ex- 
tent of a hair's breadth, we cannot go. That any thing an- 
swering to our impressions exists outside of ourselves is not 
a, fact, but an inference, to which all validity would be de- 
nied by an idealist like Berkeley, or by a skeptic like Hume. 
Mr. Spencer takes another line. With him, as with the 
uneducated man, there is no doubt or question as to the 
existence of an external world. But he differs from the 
uneducated, who think that the world really is what con- 

1 Bruno was a " pantheist," not an " atheist " or a " materialist." 

2 "Examination of Hamilton," p. 151. 
8 " Bestimmung des Menschen." 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



91 



sciousness represents it to be. Our states of consciousness 
are mere symbols of an outside entity which produces them 
and determines the order of their succession, but the real 
nature of which we can never know. 1 In fact, the whole 
process of evolution is the manifestation of a power abso- 
lutely inscrutable to the intellect of man. As little in our 
day as in the days of Job can man by searching find this 
power out. Considered fundamentally, then, it is by the 
operation of an insoluble mystery that life on earth is 
evolved, species differentiated, and mind unfolded from their 
prepotent elements in the immeasurable past. There is, 
you will observe, no very rank materialism here. 

The strength of the doctrine of evolution consists, not 
in an experimental demonstration (for the subject is hardly 
accessible to this mode of proof), but in its general har- 
mony with scientific thought. From contrast, moreover, 
it derives enormous relative strength. On the one side we 
have a theory (if it could with any propriety be so called) 
derived, as were the theories referred to at the beginning 
of this Address, not from the study of Nature, but from the 
observation of men — a theory which converts the power 
whose garment is seen in the visible universe into an artifi- 

1 In a paper, at once popular and profound, entitled "Recent Progress in 
the Theory of Vision," contained in the Tolurae of lectures by Helmholtz, 
published by Longmans, this symbolism of our states of consciousness is 
also dwelt upon. The impressions of sense are the mere signs of external 
things. In this paper Helmholtz contends strongly against the view that 
the consciousness of space is inborn ; and he evidently doubts the power 
of the chick to pick up grains of corn without preliminary lessons. On 
this point, he says, further experiments are needed. Such experiments 
have been since made by Mr. Spalding, aided, I believe, in some of his 
observations, by the accomplished and deeply-lamented Lady Amberly ; 
and they seem to prove conclusively that the chick does not need a single 
moment's tuition to enable it to stand, run, govern the muscles of its eves, 
and to peck. Helmholtz, however, is contending against the notion of 
preestablished harmony ; and I am not aware of his views as to the organ- 
ization of experiences of race or breed. 



92 



PROFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



cer, fashioned after the human model, and acting by broken 
efforts as man is seen to act. On the other side we have 
the conception that all we see around us, and all we feel 
within us — the phenomena of physical Nature as well as 
those of the human mind — have their unsearchable roots in 
a cosmical life, if I dare apply the term, an infinitesimal span 
of which is offered to the investigation of man. And even 
this span is only knowable in part. We can trace the de- 
velopment of a nervous system, and correlate with it the 
parallel phenomena of sensation and thought. We see 
with undoubting certainty that they go hand-in-hand. But 
we try to soar in a vacuum the moment we seek to compre- 
hend the connection between them. An Archimedean ful- 
crum is here required which the human mind cannot com- 
mand; and the effort to solve the problem, to borrow a 
comparison from an illustrious friend of mine, is like the 
effort of a man trying to lift himself by his own waistband. 
All that has been here said is to be taken in connection 
with this fundamental truth. When " nascent senses " are 
spoken of, when " the differentiation of a tissue at first 
vaguely sensitive all over" is spoken of, and when these 
processes are associated with " the modification of an 
organism by its environment," the same parallelism, with- 
out contact, or even approach to contact, is implied. Man 
the object is separated by an impassable gulf from man the 
subject. There is no motor energy in intellect to carry it 
without logical rupture from the on.e to the other. 

Further, the doctrine of evolution derives man in his 
totality from the interaction of organism and environment 
through countless ages past. The human understanding, 
for example — that faculty which Mr. Spencer has turned so 
skillfully round upon its own antecedents — is itself a result 
of the play between organism and environment through 
cosmic ranges of time. Never surely did prescription 
plead so irresistible a claim. But then it comes to pass 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



93 



that, over and above his understanding, there ire many 
other things appertaining to man whose prescriptive rights 
are quite as strong as those of the understanding itself. 
It is a result, for example, of the play of organism and en- 
vironment that sugar is sweet, and that aloes are bitter, 
that the smell of henbane differs from the perfume of a rose. 
Such facts of consciousness (for which, by-the-way, no ad- 
equate reason has yet been rendered) are quite as old as 
the understanding ; and many other things can boast an 
equally ancient origin. Mr. Spencer at one place refers to 
that most powerful of passions — the amatory passion — as 
one which, when it first occurs, is antecedent to all relative 
experience whatever; and we may pass its claim as being 
at least as ancient and valid as that of the understanding. 
Then there are some things woven into the texture of man, 
as the feeling of awe, reverence, wonder — and not alone 
the sexual love just referred to, but the love of the beauti- 
ful, physical, and moral, in Nature, poetry, and art. There 
is also that deep-set feeling w 7 hich, since the earliest dawn 
of history, and probably for ages prior to all history, incor- 
porated itself in the religions of the world. You who have 
escaped from these religions into the high-and-dry light of 
the intellect may deride them ; but in so doing you deride 
accidents of form merely, and fail to touch the immovable 
basis of the religious sentiment in the nature of man. To 
yield this sentiment reasonable satisfaction is the problem 
of problems at the present hour. And grotesque in relation 
to scientific culture as many of the religions of the world 
have been and are — dangerous, nay, destructive, to the dear- 
est privileges of freemen as some of them undoubtedly have 
been, and would, if they could, be again — it w r ill be wise to 
recognize them as the forms of a force, mischievous, if per- 
mitted to intrude on the region of knowledge^ over which it 
holds no command, but capable of being guided to noble 



94 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL'S 



issues in the region of emotion, which is its proper and ele- 
vated sphere. 

All religious theories, schemes, and systems, which em- 
brace notions of cosmogony, or which otherwise reach into 
the domain of science, must, in so far as they do this, sub- 
mit to the control of science, and relinquish all thought of 
controlling it. Acting otherwise proved disastrous in the 
past, and it is simply fatuous to-day. Every system which 
would escape the fate of an organism too rigid to adjust 
itself to its environment must be plastic to the extent that 
the growth of knowledge demands. When this truth has 
been thoroughly taken in, rigidity w T ill be relaxed, exclu- 
siveness diminished, things now deemed essential will be 
dropped, and elements now rejected will be assimilated. 
The lifting of the life is the essential point ; and as long 
as dogmatism, fanaticism, and intolerance, are kept out, 
various modes of leverage may be employed to raise life 
to a higher level. Science itself not unfrequently derives 
motive power from an ultra-scientific source. Whewell 
speaks of enthusiasm of temper as a hinderance to science ; 
but he means the enthusiasm of weak heads. There is a 
strong and resolute enthusiam in which science finds an 
ally ; and it is to the lowering of this fire, rather than to 
the diminution of intellectual insight, that the lessening 
productiveness of men of science in their mature years is 
to be ascribed. Mr. Buckle sought to detach intellectual 
achievement from moral force. He gravely erred ; for, 
without moral force to whip it into action, the achieve- 
ments of the intellect would be poor indeed. 

It has been said that science divorces itself from litera- 
ture ; but the statement, like so many others, arises from 
lack of knowledge. A glance at the less technical writings 
of its leaders — of its Helmholtz, its Huxley, and its Du 
Bois-Reymond — would show what breadth of literary cult- 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



95 



ure they command. Where among modern writers can 
you find their superiors in clearness and vigor of literary 
style ? Science desires not isolation, but freely combines 
with every effort toward the bettering of man's estate. 
Single-handed, and supported not by outward sympathy, 
but by inward force, it has built at least one great wing of 
the many-mansioned home which man in his totality de- 
mands. And if rough walls and protruding rafter-ends 
indicate that on one side the edifice is still incomplete, it 
is only by wise combination of the parts required with those 
already irrevocably built that we can hope for complete- 
ness. There is no necessary incongruity between what 
has been accomplished and w 7 hat remains to be done. The 
moral glow of Socrates, which we all feel by ignition, has 
in it nothing incompatible with the physics of Anaxagoras 
which he so much scorned, but which he would hardly 
scorn to-day. 

And here I am reminded of one among us, hoary, but 
still strong, whose prophet-voice some thirty years ago, far 
more than any other of this age, unlocked whatever of life 
and nobleness lay latent in its most gifted minds — one fit 
to stand beside Socrates or the Maccabean Eleazar, and to 
dare and suffer all that they suffered and dared — fit, as he 
once said of Fichte, " to have been the teacher of the Stoa, 
and to have discoursed of beauty and virtue in the groves 
of Academe." With a capacity to grasp physical princi- 
ples which his friend Goethe did not possess, and which 
even total lack of exercise has not been able to reduce to 
atrophy, it is the world's loss that he, in the vigor of his 
years, did not open his mind and sympathies to science, 
and make its conclusions a portion of his message to man- 
kind. Marvelously endowed as he was — equally equipped 
on the side of the heart and of the understanding — he 
might have done much toward teaching us how to recon- 



96 



PROFESSOR TYNDALI/S 



cile the claims of both, and to enable them in coming 
times to dwell together in unity of spirit and in the bond 
of peace. 

And now the end is come. With more time, or greater 
strength and knowledge, what has been here said might 
have been better said, while worthy matters here omitted 
might have received fit expression. But there w T ould have 
been no material deviation from the views set forth. As 
regards myself, they are not the growth of a day ; and as 
regards you, I thought you ought to know the environ- 
ment which, with or without your consent, is rapidly sur- 
rounding you, and in relation to which some adjustment 
on your part may be necessary. A hint of Hamlet's, how- 
ever, teaches us all bow the troubles of common life may 
be ended; and it is perfectly possible for you and me to 
purchase intellectual peace at the price of intellectual 
death. The world is not without refuges of this descrip- 
tion ; nor is it wanting in persons who seek their shelter 
and try to persuade others to do the same. The unstable 
and the weak will yield to this persuasion, and they to 
whom repose is sweeter than the truth. But I w r ould ex- 
hort you to refuse the offered shelter and to scorn the base 
repose — to accept, if the choice be forced upon you, com- 
motion before stagnation, the leap of the torrent before 
the stillness of the swamp. 

In the course of this address I have touched on debat- 
able questions and led you over what w T ill be deemed dan- 
gerous ground — and this partly with the view of telling 
you that as regards these questions science claims unre- 
stricted right to search. It is not to the point to say that 
the views of Lucretius and Bruno, of Darwin and Spencer, 
may be wrong. Here I should agree with you, deeming it 
indeed certain that these views will undergo modification. 
But the point is, that, whether right or wrong, we ask the 



ADDRESS AT BELFAST. 



97 



freedom to discuss them. For science, however, no exclu- 
sive claim is here made; you are not urged to erect it into 
an idol. The inexorable advance of man's understanding 
in the path of knowledge, and those unquenchable claims 
of his moral and emotional nature which the understanding 

o 

can never satisfy, are here equally set forth. The world 
embraces not only a Newton, but a Shakespeare — not only 
a Boyle, but a Raphael — not only a Kant, but a Beethoven 
— not only a Darwin, but a Carlyle. Not in each of these, 
but in all, is human nature whole. They are not opposed, 
but supplementary — not mutualfy exclusive, but reconcil- 
able. And if, unsatisfied with them all, the human mind, 
with the yearning of a pilgrim for his distant home, will 
turn to the mystery from which it has emerged, seeking so 
to fashion it as to give unity to thought and faith ; so long 
as this is done, not only without intolerance or bigotry of 
any kind, but with the enlightened recognition that ulti- 
mate fixity of conception is here unattainable, and that 
each succeeding age must be held free to fashion the 
mystery in accordance with its own needs — then, casting 
aside all the restrictions of materialism, I would affirm this 
to bp a field for the noblest exercise of what, in contrast 
with the knowing faculties, may be called the creative 
faculties of man. 

"Fill thy heart with it," said Goethe, " and then name 
it as thou wilt." Goethe himself did this in untranslat- 
able language. 1 Wordsworth did it in words known to all 
Englishmen, and which may be regarded as a forecast and 
religious vitalization of the latest and deepest scientific 
truth : 

"For I have learned 
To look on Nature ; not as in the hour 
Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes 
The still, sad music of humanity, 

1 Procemium to " Gott und Welt." 
5 



PROFESSOR TYND ALL'S ADDRESS AT BELFAST, 



Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power 
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt 
A presence that disturbs me with the joy 
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
Of something far more deeply interfused. 
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean, and the living air, 
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : 
A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things" 1 



1 " Tintem Abbey J 



APPENDIX. 



I. 

EXTRACT FROM THE LECTURE DELIVERED IN 
MANCHESTER, OCTOBER 28, 1874. 

Lookixg at these beautiful edifices and their internal 
structure, the pondering mind has submitted to it the ques- 
tion, How have these crystals been built up ? What is the 
origin of this crystalline architecture ? Without crossing 
the boundary of experience, we can make no attempt to 
answer this question. We have obtained clear conceptions 
of polar force ; we know that polar force may be resident 
in the molecules or smallest particles of matter — we know 
that by the play of this force structural arrangement is 
possible. What, in relation to our present question, is the 
natural action of a mind furnished with this knowledge ? 
Why, it is compelled by its bias toward unity of principle 
to transcend experience, and endow the atoms and mole- 
cules of which these crystals are built with definite poles, 
whence issue attractions and repulsions for other poles. 
In virtue of this attraction and repulsion some poles are 
drawn together, some retreat from each other; atom is 
thus added to atom, and molecule to molecule, not boister- 
ously or fortuitously, but silently and symmetrically, and 
in accordance with laws more rigid than those which guide 
a human builder when he places his bricks and stones to- 



100 



APPENDIX. 



gether. From this play of invisible particles we see finally 
growing up before our eyes these exquisite structures, to 
which w r e give the name of crystals. 

In the specimens hitherto placed before you the work 
of the atomic architect has been completed ; but you shall 
see him at work. In the first place, however, I will take 
one of his most familiar edifices, and try to pull it to pieces 
before your eyes. For this purpose I choose ordinary ice, 
w T hich is our commonest crystalline body. The agent to 
be employed in taking down the molecules of the ice is a 
beam of heat. Sent skillfully through the crystal, the 
beam selects certain points for attack ; round about those 
points it works silently, taking down the crystalline edi- 
fice, and reducing to the freedom of liquidity molecules 
which had been previously locked in a firm, solid embrace. 
The liquefied spaces are rendered visible by strong illumi- 
nation, and throwing their magnified images on a screen. 
Starting from numerous points in the ice we have expand- 
ing flowers, each with six petals, growing larger and larger, 
and assuming, as they do so, beautifully crimped borders ; 
showing, if I might use such terms, the pains, and skill, 
and exquisite sense of the beautiful, displayed by Nature 
in the formation of a common block of ice. 

Here we have a process of demolition, w 7 hich, however, 
clearly reveals the reverse process of erection. I w^isb, 
how T ever, to show you the molecules in the act of follow- 
ing their architectural instincts, and building themselves 
together. You know how alum, and nitre, and sugar crys- 
tals, are formed. The substance to be crystallized is dis- 
solved in a liquid, and the liquid is permitted to evaporate. 
The solution soon becomes supersaturated, for none of the 
solid is carried away by evaporation ; and then the mole- 
cules, no longer able to enjoy the freedom of liquidity, 
close together and form crystals. My object now is to 
make this process rapid enough to enable you to see it, 



EXTRACT FROM MANCHESTER LECTURE. 101 



and still not too rapid to be followed by the eve. For 
this purpose a powerful solar microscope and an intense 
source of light are needed. They are both here. Pouring 
over a clean plate of glass a solution of sal-ammonia, and 
placing the glass on its edge, the excess of the liquid flows 
away,*but a film clings to the glass. The beam employed 
to illuminate this film hastens its evaporation, and brings 
it rapidly into a state of supersaturation ; and now you 
see the orderly progress of the crystallization ever the 
entire screen. You may produce something similar to 
this if you breathe upon the frost-ferns which overspread 
your window-panes in the winter, and permit the liquid to 
recrystallize. It runs, as if alive, into the most beautiful 
forms. 

In this case the crystallizing force is hampered by the 
adhesion of the liquid to the glass ; nevertheless, the play 
of power is strikingly beautiful. In the next example our 
liquid will not be so much troubled by its adhesion, for 
we shall liberate our atoms at a distance from the surface 
of the glass. Sending an electric current through water, 
we decompose the liquid, and the bubbles of the constitu- 
ent gases rise before your eyes. Sending the same current 
through a solution of acetate of lead, the lead is liberated, 
and its free atoms build themselves together to crystals 
of marvelous beauty. They grow before you like sprout- 
ing ferns, exhibiting forms as wonderful as if they had 
been produced by the play of vitality itself. I have seen 
these things hundreds of times, but I never look at them 
without wonder. And, if you allow me a moment's diver- 
sion, I would say that I have stood in the spring-time and 
looked upon the sprouting foliage, the grass, and the flow- 
ers, and the general joy of opening life ; and in my igno- 
rance of it all I have asked myself whether there is no 
power, being, or thing, in the universe whose knowledge 
of that of which I am so ignorant is greater than mine. I 



102 



APPENDIX. 



have asked myself, Can it be possible that man's knowl- 
edge is the greatest knowledge — that man's life is the 
highest life ? My friends, the profession of that atheism 
with which I am sometimes so lightly charged would, in 
my case, be an impossible answer to this question : only 
slightly preferable to that fierce and distorted theism which 
I have had lately reason to know still reigns rampant in 
some minds as the survival of a more ferocious age. 

Everywhere throughout our planet we notice this ten- 
dency of the ultimate particles of matter to run into sym- 
metric forms. The very molecules seem instinct with a 
desire for union and growth. How far does this play of 
molecular power depend ? Does it give us the movement 
of the sap in trees ? Assuredly it does. Does it give us, 
in ourselves, the warmth of the body and the circulation 
of the blood, and all that thereon depend ? We are here 
upon the edge of a battle-field which I do not intend to 
enter to-night ; from which, indeed, I have just escaped 
bespattered and begrimed, but without much loss of heart 
or hope. It only remains for me to briefly indicate the 
positions of the opposing hosts. From the processes of 
crystallization which you have just seen, you pass by al- 
most imperceptible gradations to the lowest vegetable 
organisms, and from these through higher ones up to the 
highest. The opposition to which I have referred is : that 
whereas one class of thinkers regard the observed advance 
from the crystalline through the vegetable and animal 
worlds as an unbroken process of natural growth, thus 
grasping the world, inorganic and organic, as one vast 
and indissolubly connected whole, the other class suppose 
that the passage from the inorganic to the organic required 
a distinct creative act, and that to produce the different 
forms, both in the world of fossils and in the world of 
living things, creative acts were also needed. If you look 
abroad you will find men of equal honesty, earnestness, 



EXTRACT FROM MANCHESTER LECTURE. 



and intelligence, taking opposite sides as regards this ques- 
tion. Which are right and which are wrong is, I submit, 
a problem for reasonable and grave discussion, and not for 
anger and hard names. The question cannot be solved — 
it cannot even be shelved — by angry abuse. Nor can it 
be solved by appeals to hopes and fears — to what we lose 
or gain here or hereafter by joining the one or the other 
side. The bribe of eternity itself, were it possible to offer 
it, could not prevent the human mind from closing with 
the truth. Skepticism is at the root of our fears. I mean 
that skepticism which holds that human nature, being es- 
sentially comrpt and vile, will go to ruin if the props of 
our conventional theology are not maintained. When I 
see an able, and in many respects courageous man, running 
to and fro upon the earth, and wringing his hands over the 
threatened loss of his ideals, I feel disposed to exhort him 
to cast out this skepticism, and to believe undoubtedly 
that in the mind of man we have the substratum of a)l 
ideals. We have there capacity which will as surely and 
infallibly respond to the utterances of a really living soul 
as string responds to string when the proper note is sound- 
ed. It is the function of the teacher of humanity to call 
forth this resonance of the human heart, and the possibility 
of doing so depends wholly and solely upon the fact that 
the conditions for its production are already there. 



II. 



SCOPE AID LIMIT OF SCIENTIFIC 
MATERIALISM. 

AN ADDRESS. 

DELIVERED LN THE MATHEMATICAL AND PHYSICAL SECTION OF 
THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION IN NORWICH. 



August 19, 1868. 



"As I proceeded I found my philosopher altogether forsaking mind 
or any other principle of order, and having recourse to air and ether, and 
water, and other eccentricities. I might compare him to a person who 
began by maintaining generally that mind is the cause of the actions of 
Socrates, but who, when he endeavored to explain the cause of my several 
actions in detail, went on to show that I sit here because my body is 
made up of bones and muscles ; and the bones he would say are hard 
and have ligaments which divide them, and the muscles are elastic, and 
they cover the bones, which have also a covering or environment of flesh 
and skin which contains them ; and as the bones are lifted at their joints 
by the contraction or relaxation of the muscles, I am able to bend my 
limbs, and this is why I am sitting here in a curved posture ; that is 
what he would say, and he would have a similar explanation of my talk- 
ing to you, which he would attribute to sound, and air, and hearing, and 
he would assign ten thousand other causes of the same sort, forgetting to 
mention the true cause, which is that the Athenians have thought fit to 
condemn me, and accordingly I have thought it better and more right to 
remain here and undergo my sentence ; for I am inclined to think that 
these muscles and bones of mine would have gone off to Megara or 
Boeotia — by the dog of Egypt they would, if they had been guided by 
their own idea of what was best, and if I had not chosen as the better and 
nobler part, instead of playing truant and running away, to undergo any 
punishment which the State inflicts." — Plato, Jowetfs Translation. 



II. 



SCIENTIFIC MATERIALISM. 

The celebrated Fichte, in his lectures on the " Vo- 
cation of the Scholar," insisted on a culture which should 
not be one-sided, but all-sided. The scholar's intellect 
was to expand spherically and not in a single direction 
only. In one direction, however, Fichte required that 
the scholar should apply himself directly to Nature, be- 
come a creator of knowledge, and thus repay by original 
labors of his own the immense debt he owed to the 
labors of others. It was these which enabled him to sup- 
plement the knowledge derived from his own researches, 
so as to render his culture rounded and not one-sided. 

As regards science Fichte's idea is to some extent 
illustrated by the constitution and the labors of the British 
Association. We have a body of men engaged in the 
pursuit of Natural Knowledge, but variously engaged. 
While sympathizing with each of its departments, and 
supplementing his culture by knowledge drawn from all 
of them, each student among us selects one subject for the 
exercise of his own original faculty — one line along which 
he may carry the light of his private intelligence a little 
way into the darkness by which all knowledge is sur- 
rounded. Thus, the geologist deals with the rocks; the 
biologist with the conditions and phenomena of life ; the 
astronomer with stellar masses and motions; the mathe- 
matician with the relations of space and number; the 



108 



APPENDIX. 



chemist pursues bis atoms, while the physical investigator 
has his own large field in optical, thermal, electrical, 
acoustical, and other phenomena. The British Associa- 
tion then, as a whole, faces physical Nature on all sides 
and pushes knowledge centrifugally outward, the sum of 
its labors constituting what Fichte might call the sphere of 
natural "knowledge. In the meetings of the Association it 
is found necessary to resolve this sphere into its component 
parts, which take concrete form under the respective letters 
of our Sections. 

This is the Mathematical and Physical Section. Mathe- 
matics and physics have been long accustomed to coalesce. 
For, no matter how subtle a natural phenomenon may be, 
whether we observe it in the region of sense, or follow it 
into that of imagination, it is in the long-run reducible to 
mechanical laws. But the mechanical data once guessed 
or given, mathematics become all-powerful as an instru- 
ment of deduction. The command of geometry over the 
relations of space, the far-reaching power which organized 
symbolic reasoning confers, are potent both as means of 
physical discovery, and of reaping the entire fruits of dis- 
covery. Indeed, without mathematics, expressed or im- 
plied, our knowledge of physical science would be friable 
in the extreme. 

Side by side with the mathematical method we have 
the method of experiment. Here, from a starting-point 
furnished by his own researches, or those of others, the in- 
vestigator proceeds by combining intuition and verification. 
He ponders the knowledge he possesses and tries to push 
it further, he guesses and checks his guess, he conjectures 
and confirms or explodes his conjecture. These guesses 
and conjectures are by no means leaps in the dark ; for 
knowledge once gained casts a faint light beyond its own 
immediate boundaries. There is no discovery so limited 
as not to illuminate something beyond itself. The force 



SCIENTIFIC MATERIALISM. 



109 



of intellectual penetration into this penumbral region which 
surrounds actual knowledge is not, as some seem to think-, 
dependent upon method, but upon the genius of the in- 
vestigator. There is, however, no genius so gifted as not 
to need control and verification. The profoundest minds 
know best that Nature's ways are not at all times their 
w r ays, and that the brightest flashes in the world of 
thought are incomplete until they have been proved to 
have their counterparts in the world of fact. Thus the 
vocation of the true experimentalist may be defined as 
the continued exercise of spiritual insight, and its inces- 
sant correction and realization. His experiments consti- 
tute a body, of which his purified intuitions are, as it were, 
the soul. 

Partly through methematical and partly through ex- 
perimental research, physical science has of late years as- 
sumed a momentous position in the world. Both in a 
material and in an intellectual point of view it has pro- 
duced, and it is destined to produce, immense changes — 
vast social ameliorations, and vast alterations in the popu- 
lar conception of the origin, rule, and governance of natural 
things. By science, in the physical world, miracles are 
wrought, while philosophy is forsaking its ancient meta- 
physical channels and pursuing others which have been 
opened or indicated by scientific research. This must be- 
come more and more the case as philosophical writers 
become more deeply imbued with the methods of science, 
better acquainted with the facts which scientific men have 
won, and with the great theories which they have elaborated. 

If you look at the face of a watch, you see the hour 
and minute hands, and possibly also a second-hand, moving 
over the graduated dial. Why do these hands move ? and 
why are their relative motions such as they are observed 
to be ? These questions cannot be answered without open- 
ing the watch, mastering its various parts, and ascertaining 



110 



APPENDIX. 



their relationship to each other. When this is done, we 
find that the observed motion of the hands follows of ne- 
cessity from the inner mechanism of the watch, when acted 
upon by the force invested in the spring. 

The motion of the hands may be called a phenomenon 
of art, but the case is similar with the phenomena of Nature. 
These also have their inner mechanism, and their store of 
force to set that mechanism going. The ultimate problem 
of physical science is to reveal this mechanism, to discern 
this store, and to show that from the combined action of 
both the phenomena of which they constitute the basis 
must of necessity flow. 

I thought an attempt to give you even a brief and 
sketchy illustration of the manner in which scientific think- 
ers regard this problem would not be uninteresting to you 
on the present occasion ; more especially as it will give me 
occasion to say a word or two on the tendencies and limits 
of modern science ; to point out the region which men of 
science claim as their own, and where it is mere waste of 

) time to oppose their advance, and also to define, if possible, 
the bourne between this and that other region to which 
the questionings and yearnings of the scientific intellect 
are directed in vain. 

But here your tolerance will be needed. It was the 
American Emerson, I think, who said that it is hardly pos- 
sible to state any truth strongly without apparent injustice 
to some other truth. Truth is often of a dual character, 
taking the form of a magnet with two poles ; and many of 
the differences which agitate the thinking part of mankind 
are to be traced to the exclusiveness with which partisan 

L reasoners dwell upon one-half of the duality in forgetfulness 
of the other. The proper course appears to be to state 
both halves strongly, and allow each its fair share in the 
formation of the resultant conviction. But this waiting for 
the statement of the two sides of a question implies pa- 



SCIENTIFIC MATERIALISM. 



Ill 



tience. It implies a resolution to suppress indignation if 
the statement of the one-half should clash with our convic- 
tions, and to repress equally undue elation if the half-state- 
ment should happen to chime in with our views. It implies 
a determination to wait calmly for the statement of the 
whole, before we pronounce judgment in the form of either 
acquiescence or dissent. 

This premised, and, I trust, accepted, let us enter upon 
our task. There have been writers who affirmed that the 
pyramids of Egypt were the productions of Nature ; and in 
his early youth Alexander von Humboldt wrote a learned 
essay with the express object of refuting this notion. We 
now regard the pyramids as the work of men's hands, aided 
probably by machinery of which no record remains. "We 
picture to ourselves the swarming workers toiling at those 
vast erections, lifting the inert stones, and, guided by the 
volition, the skill, and possibly at times by the whip of the 
architect, placing them in their proper positions. The 
blocks in this case were moved and posited by a power 
external to themselves, and the final form of the pyramid 
expressed the thought of its human builder. 

Let us pass from this illustration of constructive power 
to another of a different kind. When a solution of common 
salt is slowly evaporated, the water which holds the salt 
in solution diappears, but the salt itself remains behind. At 
a certain stage of concentration the salt can no longer retain 
the liquid form ; its particles, or molecules, as they are 
called, begin ta deposit themselves as minute solids, so 
minute, indeed, as to defy all microscopic power. As evapo- 
ration continues solidification goes on, and we finally obtain, 
through the clustering together of innumerable molecules, 
a finite crystalline mass of a definite form. What is this 
form ? It sometimes seems a mimicry of the architecture 
of Egypt. We have little pyramids built by the salt, 
terrace above terrace from base to apex, forming a series of 



112 



APPENDIX. 



steps resembling those up which the Egyptian traveller is 
dragged by his guides. The human mind is as little dis- 
posed to look unquestioning at these pyramidal salt-crys- 
tals as to look at the pyramids of Egypt without inquiring 
whence they came. How, then, are those salt-pyramids 
built up ? 

Guided by analogy, you may, if you like, suppose that 
swarming among the constituent molecules of the salt, 
there is an invisible population, controlled and coerced by 
some invisible master, and placing the atomic blocks in 
their positions. This, however, is not the scientific idea, 
nor do I think your good sense will accept it as a likely 
one. The scientific idea is that the molecules act upon each 
other without the intervention of slave labor ; that they 
attract each other and repel each other at certain definite 
points, or poles, and in certain definite directions ; and that 
the pyramidal form is the result of this play of attraction 
and repulsion. "While, then, the blocks of Egypt were laid 
down by a power external to themselves, these molecular 
blocks of salt are self-posited, being fixed in their places by 
the forces with which they act upon each oth*r. 

I take common salt as an illustration because it is so 
familiar to us all ; but any other crystalline substance would 
answer my purpose equally well. Everywhere, in fact, 
throughout inorganic Nature, we have this formative power, 
as Fichte would call it — this structural energy ready to 
come into play, and build the ultimate particles of matter 
into definite shapes. The ice of our winters and of our 
polar regions is its handy work, and so equally are the 
quartz, felspar, and mica of our rocks. Our chalk-beds are 
for the most part composed of minute shells, which are also 
the product of structural energy ; but, behind the shell, as 
a whole, lies a more remote and subtle formative act. These 
shells are built up of little crystals of calc-spar, and to form 
these crystals the structural force had to deal with the 



SCIENTIFIC MATERIALISM. 



113 



intangible molecules of carbonate of lime. This tendency 
on the part of matter to organize itself, to grow into shape, 
to assume definite forms in obedience to the definite action 
of force, is, as I have said, all-pervading. It is in the 
ground on which you tread, in the water you drink, in the 
air you breathe. Incipient life, as it were, manifests itself 
throughout the whole of what we call inorganic Nature. 

The forms of the minerals resulting from this play of 
polar forces are various, and exhibit different degrees of 
complexity. Men of science avail themselves of all possible 
means of exploring their molecular architecture. For this 
purpose they employ in turn as agents of exploration, light, 
heat, magnetism, electricity, and sound. Polarized light is 
especially useful and powerful here. A beam of such light, 
when sent in among the molecules of a crystal, is acted on 
by them, and from this action we infer with more or less of 
clearness the manner in which the molecules are arranged. 
That differences, for example, exist between the inner 
structure of rock-salt and crystallized sugar or sugar-candy, 
is thus strikingly revealed. These actions often display 
themselves in chromatic phenomena of great splendor, the 
play of molecular force being so regulated as to remove 
some of the colored constituents of white light, and to leave 
others with increased intensity behind. 

And now let us pass from what we are accustomed to 
regard as a dead mineral to a living grain of corn. When 
it is examined by polarized light, chromatic phenomena 
similar to those noticed in crystals are observed. And 
why ? Because the architecture of the grain resembles the 
architecture of the crystal. In the grain also the molecules 
are set in definite positions, and in accordance with their 
arrangement they act upon the light. But what has built 
together the molecules of the corn ? I have already said 
regarding crystalline architecture that you ma} r , if you 
please, consider the atoms and molecules to be placed in 



114 



APPENDIX. 



position by a j:>ower external to themselves. The same 
hypothesis is open to you now. But if in the case of crys- 
tals you have rejected this notion of an external architect, 
I think you are bound to reject it now, and to conclude 
that the molecules of the corn are self-posited by the forces 
with which they act upon each other. It would be poor 
philosophy to invoke an external agent in the one case and 
to reject it in the other. 

Instead of cutting our grain of corn into slices and sub- 
jecting it to the action of polarized light, let us place it in 
the earth and subject it to a certain degree of warmth. In 
other words, let the molecules, both of the corn and of the 
surrounding earth, be kept in that state of agitation which 
we call warmth. Under these circumstances, the grain and 
the substances which surround it interact, and a definite 
molecular architecture is the result. A bud is formed ; this 
bud reaches the surface, where it is exposed to the sun's 
rays, which are also to be regarded as a kind of vibratory 
motion. And as the motion of common heat with which 
the grain and the substances surrounding it were first 
endowed, enabled the grain and these substances to exer- 
cise their attractions and repulsions, and thus to coalesce 
in definite forms, so the specific motion of the sun's rays 
now enables the green bud to feed upon the carbonic acid 
and the aqueous vapor of the air. The bud appropriates 
those constituents of both for which it has an elective 
attraction, and permits the other constituent to resume its 
place in the air. Thus the architecture is carried on. 
Forces are active at the root, forces are active in the blade, 
the matter of the earth and the matter of the atmosphere 
are drawn toward the root and blade, and the plant aug- 
ments in size. We have in succession the bud, the stalk, 
the ear, the full corn in the ear; the cycle of molecular 
action being completed by the production of grains similar 
to that with which the process began. 



SCIENTIFIC MATERIALISM. 



115 



Now there is nothing in this process which necessarily 
eludes the conceptive or imagining power of the purely 
human mind. An intellect the same in kind as our own 
would, if only sufficiently expanded, be able to follow the 
whole process from beginning to end. It would see every 
molecule placed in its position by the specific attractions 
and repulsions exerted between it and other molecules, the 
whole process and its consummation being an instance of 
the play of molecular force. Given the grain and its envi- 
ronment, the purely human intellect might, if sufficiently 
expanded, trace out a priori every step of the process of 
growth, and by the application of purely mechanical prin- 
ciples demonstrate that the cycle must end, as it is seen to 
end, in the reproduction of forms like that with which it 
began. A similar necessity rules here to that which rules 
the planets in their circuits round the sun. 

You will notice that I am stating my truth strongly, as 
at the beginning we agreed it should be stated. But I 
must go still further, and affirm that in the eye of science 
the animal tody is just as much the product of molecular 
force as the stalk and ear of corn, or as the crystal of salt 
or sugar. Many of the parts of the body are obviously 
mechanical. Take the human heart, for example, with its 
system of valves, or take the exquisite mechanism of the 
eye or hand. Animal heat, moreover, is the same in kind 
as the heat of a fire, being produced by the same chemical 
process. Animal motion, too, is as directly derived from 
the food of the animal, as the motion of Trevethyck's walk- 
ing-engine from the fuel in its furnace. As regards matter, 
the animal body creates nothing ; as regards force, it creates 
nothing. Which of you by taking thought can add one 
cubit to his stature ? All that has been said, then, regard- 
ing the plant may be restated with regard to the animal. 
Every particle that enters into the composition of a muscle, 
a nerve, or a bone, has been placed in its position by mo- 



116 



APPENDIX. 



lecular force. And unless the existence of law in these 
matters be denied, and the element of caprice introduced, 
we must conclude that, given the relation of any molecule 
of the body to its environment, its position in the body 
might be determined mathematically. Our difficulty is not 
with the quality of the problem, but with its complexity / 
and this difficulty might be met by the simple expansion 
of the faculties which we now possess. Given this expan- 
sion, with the necessary molecular data, and the chick 
might be deduced as rigorously and as logically from the 
egg as the existence of Neptune from the disturbances of 
Uranus, or as conical refraction from the undulatory theory 
of light. 

You see I am not mincing matters, but avowing nakedly 
what many scientific thinkers more or less distinctly be- 
lieve. The formation of a crystal, a plant, or an animal, is 
in their eyes a purely mechanical problem, which differs 
from the problems of ordinary mechanics in the smallness 
of the masses and the complexity of the processes involved. 
Here you have one half of our dual truth ; let us now glance 
at the other half. Associated with this wonderful mechan- 
ism of the animal body we have phenomena no less certain 
than those of physics, but between which and the mechan- 
ism we discern no necessary connection. A man, for ex- 
ample, can say, I feel \ I think^ I love ; but how does 
consciousness infuse itself into the problem ? The human 
brain is said to be the organ of thought and feeling ; when 
we are hurt the brain feels it, when we ponder it is the 
brain that thinks, when our passions or affections are ex- 
cited it is through the instrumentality of the brain. Let us 
endeavor to be a little more precise here. I hardly imagine 
there exists a profound scientific thinker, who has reflected 
upon the subject, unwilling to admit the extreme proba- 
bility of the hypothesis that, for every fact of consciousness, 
whether in the domain of sense, of thought, or of emotion, 



SCIENTIFIC MATERIALISM. 



117 



a definite molecular condition of motion or structure is set 
up in the brain ; or who would be disposed even to deny 
that if the motion or structure be induced by internal 
causes instead of external, the effect on consciousness will 
be the same ? Let any nerve, for example, be thrown by 
morbid action into the precise state of motion which would 
be communicated to it by the pulses of a heated body, 
surely that nerve will declare itself hot — the mind will 
accept the subjective intimation exactly as if it were ob- 
jective. The retina may be excited by purely mechanical 
means. A blow on the eye causes a luminous flash, and 
the mere pressure of the finger on the external ball pro- 
duces a star of light, which Newton compared to the circles 
on a peacock's tail. Disease makes people see visions and 
dream dreams ; but, in all such cases, could we examine 
the organs implicated, we should, on philosophical grounds, 
expect to find them in that precise molecular condition 
which the real objects, if present, would superinduce. 

The relation of physics to consciousness being thus 
invariable, it follows that, given the state of the brain, the 
corresponding thought or feeling might be inferred ; or 
given the thought or feeling, the corresponding state of the 
brain might be inferred. But how inferred ? It would be 
at bottom not a case of logical inference at all, but of 
empirical association. You may reply that many of the 
inferences of science are of this character ; the inference, 
for example, that an electric current of a given direction 
will deflect a magnetic needle in a definite way ; but the 
cases differ in this, that the passage from the current to the 
needle, if not demonstrable, is thinkable, and that we enter- 
tain no doubt as to the final mechanical solution of the 
problem. But the passage from the physics of the brain 
to the corresponding facts of consciousness is unthinkable. 
Granted that a definite thought, and a definite molecular 
action in the brain occur simultaneously ; we do not possess 



118 



APPENDIX. 



the intellectual organ, nor apparently any rudiment of the 
organ, which would enable us to pass, by a process of rea- 
soning, from the one to the other. They appear together, 
but we do not know why. Were our minds and senses so 
expanded, strengthened, and illuminated as to enable us to 
see and feel the very molecules of the brain ; were we 
capable of following all their motions, all their groupings, 
all their electric discharges, if such there be ; and were we 
intimately acquainted with the corresponding states of 
thought and feeling, we should be as far as ever from the 
solution of the problem, " How are these physical processes 
connected with the facts of consciousness ? " The chasm 
between the two classes of phenomena would still remain 
intellectually impassable. Let the consciousness of love, 
for example, be associated with a right-handed spiral 
motion of the molecules of the brain, and the consciousness 
of hate with a left-handed spiral motion. "We should then 
know when we love that the motion is in one direction, 
and when we hate that the motion is in the other ; but the 
" why ? " would remain as unanswerable as before. ' 

In affirming that the growth of the body is mechanical, 
and that thought, as exercised by us, has its correlative in 
the physics of the brain, I think the position of the " Ma- 
terialist" is stated, as far as that position is a tenable 
one. I think the materialist w^ill be able finally to main- 
tain this position against all attacks ; but I do not think, 
in the present condition of the human mind, that he can 
pass beyond this position. I do not think he is entitled 
to say that his molecular groupings and his molecular 
motions explain every thing. In reality, they explain 
nothing. The utmost he can affirm is the association of 
two classes of phenomena, of whose real bond of union 
he is in absolute ignorance. The problem of the con- 
nection of body and soul is as insoluble in its modern 
form as it was in the prescientific ages. Phosphorus is 



SCIENTIFIC MATERIALISM. 



119 



known to enter into the composition of the human brain, 
and a trenchant German writer has exclaimed, " Ohne 
Phosphor, kein Gedanke." That may or may not be the 
case ; but even if we knew it to be the case, the knowledge 
would not lighten our darkness. On both sides of the zone 
here assigned to the materialist he is equally helpless. If 
you ask him whence is this "Matter" of which we have 
been discoursing, who or what divided it into molecules, 
who or what impressed upon them this necessity of running 
into organic forms, he has no answer. Science is mute in 
reply to these questions. But if the materialist is con- 
founded and science rendered dumb, who else is prepared 
with a solution ? To whom has this arm of the Lord been 
revealed ? Let us lower our heads and acknowledge our 
ignorance, priest and philosopher, one and all. 

Perhaps the mystery may resolve itself into knowledge 
at some future day. The process of things upon this earth 
has been one of amelioration. It is a long way from the 
Iguanodon and his contemporaries to the President and 
members of the British Association. And whether we re 
gard the improvement from the scientific or from the theo- 
logical point of view, as the result of progressive develop- 
ment, or as the result of successive exhibitions of creative 
energy, neither view entitles us to assume that man's present 
faculties end the series — that the process of amelioration 
stops at him. A time may therefore come when this ultra- 
scientific region by which we are now enfolded may offer it- 
self to terrestrial, if not to human investigation. Two-thirds 
of the rays emitted by the sun fail to arouse in the eye the 
sense of vision. The rays exist, but the visual organ requi- 
site for their translation into light does not exist. And so 
from this region of darkness and mystery which surrounds 
us, rays may now be darting which require but the develop- 
ment of the proper intellectual organs to translate them 
into knowledge as far surpassing ours as ours surpasses 



120 



APPENDIX. 



that of the wallowing reptiles which once held possession 
of this planet. Meanwhile the mystery is not without its 
uses. It certainly may be made a power in the human soul ; 
but ii is a power which has feeling, not knowledge, for its 
base. It may be, and will be, and I hope is, turned to 
account, both in studying and strengthening the intellect, 
and in rescuing man from that littleness to which, in the 
struggle for existence, or for precedence in the world, he 
is continually prone. 



THE END. 



